Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Luna, my black hen, is sitting beneath the kitchen window. She has scratched herself a bed in the ground. She sits in her carved, dirt bowl, between the calla lilies, and has a bath. Luna's bath is a dirty bath. I can hear the ruffle of her feathers, and see the dust and particles of dry earth rise above her in flurries. She beats the ground with her wings, and fans the dirt between her feathers. She spreads her body low, in to the flower bed, and opens her wings for maximum exposure to dirt and sun. Like a feather duster, in pursuit of the most dirt, Gracie too is beating her wings and dusting her body with fresh top soil. They cluck contentedly, like two hens at the spa, and the dirtier they get the more relaxed they become. Their drowsy heads are lulling in the sun. Happy chicas. Clean and dirty, happy hens.
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