Days of Our Buckeyes... part four

Thirteen days. Thirteen -not so bad -but not what he had planned for -days.

Bucky didn't want to be ungrateful toward his new friends in the big fancy pen with the barn and the loft and the roosting poles and heavy wooden nest boxes with the older hens who somehow seemed to tolerate him as the newcomer.  They were all pretty nice, really, though the hens were pretty set in their ways.

There was Poofy, the Cochin in the big nesting box who only shared with Buffy and Delia.  And then there was Lady Liberty who seemed bent on stealing their favorite spot when they got up to eat.  But even that wasn't much drama. And the worst he got from Austra and her sister was being outright ignored.

Bucky thought about going to meet the Phoenix hen up in the loft. The others called her Sneaky, but that didn't sound much like a name to Bucky.  She'd been up in the loft above the barn since the boy caretaker had been away. And even then, the mama lady from the house had looked after and talked to them all, but the hens got more pats and encouragement than the boys. Not that it helped that she didn't seem to appreciate their crowing contests...

Anyhow, the feisty, stubborn Sneaky had been up sitting on eggs when the caretaker boy returned from somewhere he called "camp". She couldn't be all there upstairs, because she kept dropping them over the side of the loft. A few times, the mama lady gave them back to her, asking if she had heard of  shaken baby something. Whatever it was, it didn't sounds good!  Just when Bucky was looking up there, thinking of going up to keep her company, Delia told me she was unfriendly and that when she sits up there like that, going up to visit is a death wish akin to cuddling with the owl that tries to get in at night.

Bucky knew he shouldn't complain, even the big, dominant Brahma roosters were tolerating him and not fussing at him much, as long as he was nice to the hens.  And they get plenty of treats- melons, squash, sprouts, and apples.  But really, from this vantage point of half an acre away from Mahogany at the closest, there was little chance of Bucky seeing his true love.  Even less chance of winning her back, not to even remotely consider getting her to run away with him.  

For all Bucky knew, she had forgotten him by now. 

Yet every evening at sunset, settling in with his fellow friends in the big pen barn and all of their quirks, he gazed at the beautiful sunset and thought that Mahogany was gazing at the same beautiful sunset, and he hoped he would see her again soon...