Neighborly Chickens

    A new family moved into our rural neighborhood this past year, and in fact we share a fence with them. During the summer we began hearing a very poor version of a cock-a-doodle-do, but loud and extremely effective at waking us up.  The man of the house told me he was a turken rooster (don't ask me, I have no idea...) and not to be confused with a turducken. That explains a lot. The poor turken was trying to work a gobble-gobble into his cock-a-doodle.  The neighbor said he hoped we weren't bothered by the early morning disturbance, which we are not. One of the wonderful perks of living in the county is the ability to have a few farm animals in the back yard if you want.

    Turken is very enthusiastic and has gotten quite a bit better at crowing. Sometimes he even crows perfectly. But he hasn't figured out the timing yet. We dare not set our clock by Turken. He might croak  out his wake-up call at 4:30 a.m., 6:45 or at 10:30. Often we hear him during nap time, and he never knows when to shut up. He will probably learn to pay attention to the rising of the sun one of these days, but I am surprised this talent didn't come to him naturally. Even so, I find him endearing because of his persistence.

    Turken has a few lady-friends.  One morning last summer, we awoke to find a lovely and plump little red hen on our side of the fence. She was so intent on pecking in the lawn for tidbits, she paid no attention to us. We kept our cockapoo inside for Henrietta's protection, since both cockers and poodles are bird hunters. Eventually my husband visited the neighbor lady and she took the little hen home. 

   Henrietta flew over the fence to harvest our bugs and worms every morning for over a week. We just let her be, and eventually she would fly back into her own yard. I guess the bugs are always better on the other side of the fence. On the evening of the third day, our  Zoey followed a scent trail and came back to us with a little brown chicken egg in her mouth and laid it at my feet. She went out into the yard again, and came back with another egg. And then a third. She didn't eat them, she didn't even break them. Everyday when Henrietta came calling she left us a perfect little brown present, delivered by Zoey.

    I began to feel a little guilty that we had not turned the eggs over to the family next door, but they assured me they had plenty of fresh eggs everyday. Henrietta stopped flying over the fence when they clipped her wings, but we thoroughly enjoyed the fun experience while it lasted. And we continue to smile as Turken keeps practicing his art of  cockle-gobble-doodle-doing.