Bird Face

As I leave for work in the morning, the rooster looks sadly at me from his coop.  He wants out.  He wants to run in the grass and eat earwigs.  He wants to roll in the dirt pick.  He wants to sit on top of the coop and watch the world.  I tell him I am sorry as I leave.  I tell him this will all happen when I get home.

The other song birds in the area seem not to harass the chickens.  They quietly pop away from the coop, seeming to not want to hurt the kept birds' feelings.  In the evening when the chickens are dirt bathing, song birds swoop and call from the willow tree to the apple tree.  They sing in solidarity with their cousins.

I herd the chickens back into the coop.  Foxes will be out soon and the stinky skunk as well.  The rooster puffs his chest as if to say he can take them.  Tomorrow evening I tell him and offer a fat, green hornworm. The catbird sitting in the willow flies away as I shut the door.  Tomorrow evening there will be more grazing and dirt baths.

Promise.