Dawn, Part 2 & Chicken sit-in

And so the time of the egg-lay did come upon this hen, and she did sit upon the ordained egg-lay spot as chosen by White Cockerel, the King of all hens at Labartere. The urge to do her allotted task lay heavily within her, fixing her to the saucer of earth as if glued. She was not to be shifted.

Meanwhile, into this hallowed space, the Frenchman came on his red chariot. And he did do his work, and did it well, for his task this day was to smooth the floor of this space, laying down this pile of stones from outside to inside.

He did not see the hen intent on her egg-laying task, for she had been about her busyness and he had been about his.

But then he did have cause to swivel the arm of his chariot, and he did espy the hen, and he knew upset. For was not the time of the food soon to arrive, and was not his intent to complete his allotted task before he went to his nourishment.

And so he did approach the hen. Spoke words the equivalent of 'Off you go' but said in French man-speak.

She did not move.

And so he waved the arm of his chariot in the air above her head. No. That hen did stay fixed in her position.

And French man spoke to Him, expressing his concern lest his job remained unfinished and the day be lost.

So Him made him a cup of tea.

Soothed, the Frenchman did leave. To his food he went.

The hen continued on with her allotted task. The chariot slumbered in lunch time repose. All became quiet in this hallowed place.

And that precious bearer of life was laid, and great rejoicing was had by all of the inhabitants in the Land of the Chicken Hut. For had not a battle been won? For had not the chariot been made to stop? For had not the hallowed egg-space been preserved?

Actually no.

For it is in the nature of the hens of the flock to go about their daily lives once the new egg has been laid. There is other work to do: clean out the sheep barn, recycle morsels from the compost heap, rummage in the veg plot, keep Him occupied by asking for food, keep Her occupied by going to the loo right in front of the door, etc...... And so the busyness of their days lead them away from the hallowed egg-lay space.

French Man did a return. Long food-time he had had. With energy he mounted his chariot.

Alas, the hallowed egg-lay space is no more. The egg was saved though. Which is good.

And so the battle was lost by the flock. And today a new task lays ahead of the White Cockerel, for he has to choose a new hallowed space, and it has to be somewhere else because in a few days time the floor will be cemented over. It is a hard task being King of such a changing land. But not to worry. He will win through.

However: It came to be a good day, a sunny day, a day not to be dismissed in the general busyness of the life that is led by all here at Labartere, or so Her thought. 

And it came into her head that perhaps it was time to take a few minutes of rest. Or an hour. Flowing on with this thought, Her did a rummage in the Half Barn stuff, and came upon this:



And much was the dismay of Her. For what was this mess upon this well treasured item. How came this abomination. For this bed, this sunbed, was festooned with the leavings from the rear-ends of the inhabitants from The Land of the Chicken Hut.

And she thought, with happy thoughts, about the many hours of pleasure spent upon this bed. Her felt the sun outside calling. Yet she dithered. A rest was needed, for was not The Back of Her being difficult, it having been given the task of late to help Her render onto the earth outside of the house, in the part of Labartere known as The Front Garden, a tidyness, Her having been inspired to pursue such an activity by an unfortunate espying on the Internet of plants. Yes, plants. Those living beings which create such a surge of activity in the bodies of those who feel the urge to go plant those plants, and to which The Back of Her was in disagreement with after having been made to do such a task.

So the sun outside and The Back of Her inside did bind together in another urge. With determination did Her take up that bed which had suffered at the hands of the occupants of The Land.

And she did lay down upon that bed. Outside she lay. And had a glorious roasting for all of the afternoon, until the sun laid itself low in the sky, and the shadows did fall, and the goosebumps arose upon the skin of Her, giving a reminder that it was still the middle of January, and therefore Winter time.

And she forgave The Land flock for the soiling of the bed, for she had had a roasting, a precious roasting, and that put her in a good humour, which was good for all at Labartere.