The decidedly unfancy
So, now the Polish sisters, and the Silkie Princesses, lil Puff and tiny Zoe are learning the ways of the great outdoors. Everyday we bring them from the heat lamp in the garage to the shark cage in the garden, and they love it. Love it. They scratch the dirt, redistribute the weeds, spread the seeds. They enjoy their dust baths, which honestly look like ruffled chicken seizures. They spastically flap and roll and fan themselves with dirt and dust. A small, brown cloud hangs above them and every nook and cranny gets thoroughly dusted, then their flurry subsides for a moment and they look somewhat dead. But happy.
Seizure---> Dirt cloud--->Happy death--->Repeat
But then something interrupts their blissful cycle.
One of them wanders beyond the steel door… out there…
And pretty soon, some are in and some are out...
Houston, we have a problem.
Now the frantic pipping commences.
How does the poem go?
When in trouble
When in doubt
Run in circles
Scream and shout!
They call back and forth to each other. They pace. They fret.
Whose in charge here?
We need a leader!
Go in to the light… no wait!
It's a trap!
I would help them out, but how do you laugh, hold a camera, and wrangle chicas?
"C'mon" says Tesla. "I've been to the other side."