That’s MY Chair, Cinnamon!


The hens want me to hurry up and feed them. Every day they crowd around me while I mix up their wet mash. They pin me with their eyes. They have a look that is half starved/abused animal straight out of a PETA commercial and half pharaoh commanding his slaves. They want to arouse my pity so that I will rush to rescue them from certain death by malnutrition. At the same time time they want to ensure that will not dawdle or forget my duty in serving their favorite repast. Six against one. The sheep will yell at me over the gate to hurry me along. The hens use this harsher tactic. It can be very intimidating, especially when they start flapping up onto my chair or the feed barrels to oversee my work.