When we left off...It was a grey, dismal day in central Massachusetts.
A thin rain hisses down, slowly melting the snow pack. There are silver
icy-cold puddles of water slicking the ground. Driveways have become
temporary stream courses. The streets are gritty with a winter's
accumulation of road sand. The only color is the deep green of the
pines. The sun's light is a frail thing, and the clouds never thin.
The sound of a family of crows off in the distance is mournful, and
muffled by the rain.....
Todd and Hebert stood on the fluffed straw and pine shaving mix that
carpeted the floor of the Coop in the middle of a circle of angry,
*angry* chickens. The two ferrets had been invited to do their worst
by Tina, the Very Smart Barred Rock hen who remained seated daintily
atop that days clutch of eggs, like a tightly black and white checked
general, directing her troops. That would be...maybe Atilla the Hen.
Something like that.
Todd stood up slowly and reached out a paw to pull Hebert up to his
back feet. Hebert resisted, but after a good yank or two he came
upright and stood beside Todd, whose stupid idea this had been in the
first place. Heberts whiskers were shaking slightly, a good indicator
that inside his lovely white coat *he* was shaking slightly! Todd
wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and did his best to look
undaunted. He thrust his pot belly out, and stood very straight on his
bandy little legs. Todd had been named for another Todd, a brave man.
And our Todd was a brave ferret. Except he was thinking about peeing
his fur. But he didn't let it show. Hebert was not quite so brave. He
looked scared out of his mind. He was.
One of the white Leghorn hens pointed at Hebert with one yellow scaled
foot and hissed "The white one! Let us peck him until his fur flies
like milkweed thistle on the wind!" (Leghorns are mean.) The other
white Leghorn and the cinnamony Red Star, who was half Leghorn cackled
wickedly at that! And the circle around Todd and Hebert drew in just a
bit closer, except for Tina, who merely watched, and preened an errant
feather or two.
Hebert, who had never been so scared in life, who could never even
have *imagined* being this scared...well...he was not as brave as Todd.
Hebert did pee his fur then, just a little. Todd smelled the hot flash
of it, an electric smell in contrast to the almost sweet smell of straw
and pine and bird dung. Todd immediately stepped in front of Hebert to
try to shield his friend from shame, but the chickens knew, and all
six began to giggle, then laugh outright, wrapping their wings around
themselves tightly as the bellylaughs came fast and furious! The noise
of their cackling filled the coop, shook the single glass window,
vibrated the very dust motes in the air, the ones that are always
present in any place where there is straw.
Hebert sank, as if he could shield himself by sinking straight down
therough the floor. He lay in the straw, a flat ferret at Todd's feet.
At that moment the rooster, an ENORMOUS creature with drumsticks
thicker around the middle than either Todd or Hebert took a step
forward toward the two miserable, *miserable* weasels. The rooster
had beautiful, arching green tail feathers, and a light tan body with
a crown of speckled tawny feathers atop his head and neck. His comb
was red and multi-pronged. It spoke of strength and maturity, as did
the two dark spurs on the back of his shanks. Fighting spurs.
The rooster reached down from his great height and sniffed...delicately
sniffed both Todd and Hebert, who couldn't have moved a muscle if they
had wanted to....
More Tomorrow.
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML 6275]
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