A Hen Speaks of Journeys

I've been on this planet over a year now.  I've seen summer and winter and summer again.  I've pecked a lot of dirt, I've laid a lot of eggs.  It hasn't always been an easy life, but I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  I've lived life by my own rules and never asked permission or sought advice.  Don't look back, is my motto.  Sure, I've made my share of mistakes, but they're all part of who I am.

I guess I've seen pretty much everything there is to see.  I've been all the way to the fence on the left side, and all the way to the fence on the right side.  I've seen the front side and back side of the fence, too.  I've done it all.  Other chickens might say, "What are you thinking?  Why can't you just stay in the coop?  What's so great out there that you have to go gallivanting from one end of the fence to the other?"  It's just the gypsy-chicken blood in my veins, I suppose.  I think to myself, "I'm tired of pecking the ground in the same old spot.  I think I'll go peck the ground in that spot over there."  And I'm off again.  It's just go, go, go with me.

I've stood on the woodpile and looked through the fence as far as the eye can see.  Beyond our fenced-in area of grass and straw is another area of grass and straw.  Craning my neck, if it's a clear day, I can see the edge of another fence!  Think of that!  And beyond that, there's maybe even more grass and straw and another fence!  The mind reels.  It makes you realize how tiny you are in the big scheme of things.

Someday, maybe I'll just settle down and stick to the coop, but not just yet.  Today I may go all the way to the left side of the fence or go to the top of the woodpile again.  The woodpile is beautiful in the afternoon.  It's a great big world out there, and you have to grab every fleeting moment. 

I'm a lucky hen.