Shortly after I had posted another painting of her and Artemis, saying that soon my hens would begin laying, Kiep walked into my Studio and summarily jumped up on one of my tables housing my Keyboard and some art materials and started scratching around. I immediately knew she wanted to lay an egg!
With great excitement I found a box, put a towel in it and filled it with some grass. She jumped straight in and carried on like an old mother hen for about 10 minutes, scratching and organising the grass to her liking and then settled down to the serious business of egg-laying!
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It was obvious that this first egg was not going to be an easy task and after some grunting and groaning and glassy-eyed expressions, suddenly, there it was!
The first egg!
Then it was time to proclaim this great feat to the world with a lot of squawking and cackling on top of the Keyboard to the accompaniment of me playing 'Silent Night', one of her favourite songs!
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As grains in the cornfield, for thee have I shucked,
Words of love do I offer, yea of praise and renown,
Winged yet earthbound, as seraphs cast down,
To thee have I whisper’d, to me hast thou clucked.
Pulchritudinous poultry, from beak to thy legs,
To gaze at thy galliform soul is to sing
Of the unbested arm and the untested wing;
I toast thy fowl beauty as I toast thy fresh eggs.
Say not love is folly ’twixt chickens and men;
For hath not my heart forged a bond with thy breast?
Yea, a thick bond, which thickens, like mud in a nest,
And quickens my pulse for thou pullet, thou hen.
O chicken, surpassing the swallow or dove,
As thou swallow my corn, spurn not my love.
- Unknown
Words of love do I offer, yea of praise and renown,
Winged yet earthbound, as seraphs cast down,
To thee have I whisper’d, to me hast thou clucked.
Pulchritudinous poultry, from beak to thy legs,
To gaze at thy galliform soul is to sing
Of the unbested arm and the untested wing;
I toast thy fowl beauty as I toast thy fresh eggs.
Say not love is folly ’twixt chickens and men;
For hath not my heart forged a bond with thy breast?
Yea, a thick bond, which thickens, like mud in a nest,
And quickens my pulse for thou pullet, thou hen.
O chicken, surpassing the swallow or dove,
As thou swallow my corn, spurn not my love.
- Unknown
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