Shadrach's Stories

[Clubber1234]

@bamboochicken @drumstick diva @micstrachan @Fields Mountain Farm
Thank you all for reading the stories and your kind comments.
Yes, they do tend to be a bit sad but the characters have a good life here now and the greatest gift of all is freedom.

Thank you!

 

[perchie.girl]

I thought I would share some of the stories I've written about the Can P chickens.
Each story has some chicken 'science' in it. In this story for example one of the messages is chickens don't swim and their feathers aren't really water proof.
Another is why one shouldn't hold a chicken upside down.
A more subtle point is because chickens are so reliant on visual input wearing the same clothing and keeping your head uncovered helps the chicken match you to it's imprint.
I was going out one night, fairly unusual and had got dressed up a bit. Tribe 1 came into H Block (my house) to get out of the rain,looked at me in the strange cloths and ran straight out again.


Fat Bird's Revelations.

There was an expectant silence when I said goodnight to Tribe 1 and closed the door for the night.
Mora was perched closest to the rear door, next was Ruffles, then Fat Bird and finally Able.
Once Ruffles was satisfied I was out of earshot, she shuffled a bit closer to Mora, hopefully out of striking distance of Fat Birds beak and unable to contain her curiosity any longer, asks Fat Bird,
"How was your night with Bucket Boy then?"
Mora craned her neck out as far as she could without toppling off the perch in order to see Fat Bird past Ruffles and said,
"Come on Fat Bird, tell us what happened? Able said you fell in the pond and nearly drowned."
Able, who was busy picking mites off his bad leg hoped on to the roof of the nesting box below the perch and fearing a bit of a scrap might be in the offing, jumped up between Fat Bird and Ruffles. After some foot shuffling, squawks of indignation and a few pecks, order was restored, and Fat Bird who was now standing, said in a tone that forbade any dissent,
"I didn't fall in!"
Able pointed out he was only relaying the information he had received from Jenny the Muscovey Duck, who had told him when he went to escort Fat Bird home at bedtime, she saw Bucket Boy's sister lift Fat Bird out of the pond and carry her away.

'The Pond' is a large concrete clothes washing basin with a sloping corrugated side on which the wet clothes were scrubbed. All the chickens know the water is deep and the slope slippery. No chicken has ever 'fallen' into this basin in the past, and Fat Bird is a very experienced hen.
Chickens don't swim and avoid deep water. Their feathers are not water-proof and when their feathers are soaked, they can't fly, their body temperature drops and their body weight increases, making running much more difficult and flight impossible
"What did happen then Fat Bird?" Mora asked.
Fat Bird, looking slightly shifty, took an intense interest in rearranging her wing feathers and muttered "I can't say."
Realizing that opportunity to increase her status in telling the others the story of that night might be slipping away, Fat Bird gave one final sweeping brush of her wing with her beak and settles down on the perch, while casually mentioning that Bucket Boy takes his feather off when he goes to sleep. Ruffles and Mora's neck shot forward and their eyes widened, their attention riveted on Fat Bird.

Fat Bird mentioned in a deliberately offhand manner that while she was recovering on Bucket Boys soft rocking chair, eating the last of the tuna she had been given off the blanket that had been carefully arranged around her, she saw Bucket Boy go to bed.

Ruffles's beak dropped open and her eyes went all wistful and misty "I love tuna" she sighed, and slipped into a reverie where she attempted to recount all her favorite foods in no particular order.
"Shut up Ruffles" Fat Bird snaps, "the point is he takes his feathers off at night."
"Not sure I could fancy a man with no feathers" Ruffles murmured, still deep in her food reverie.
Fat Bird, eager to get to her most astonishing revelation, sets about telling the whole story of that night.
The others sat silent and listened, eyes wide, slightly in awe of Fat Birds experience, and slightly in awe of Fat Bird, who had after all, cheated certain death and spent the night with Bucket Boy. Fat Bird arrived at the point where she's eating the Tuna, gave Ruffles a threatening glance to forestall any further lapses in Ruffles concentration and continued her tale.

"It must have been late; easily badger time when Bucket Boy finished fussing over me and got me settled for the night. He turned out the lights except one, went to the toilet, and then into the room where his perch is. He took off all his feathers, drops them on the floor, and gets on to his perch."

Fat Bird paused and even in the gloom of the coop you could see that the memory of what happened next still haunted her. "I couldn't believe what happened next. I was close to panicking. How was I going to get out? Did anyone else known where I was? There was no more tuna; no water. I just sat there paralyzed."
Able, Ruffles and More were now on the very edge of their perches with anticipation, necks craned, eyes practically popping out of their heads and in chorus shouted,
"What happened Fat Bird?"
Fat Bird took one more pause, shuddered and said,
He said "goodnight Fat Bird," rolled onto his back and went to sleep.
Pandemonium broke out. Mora who had leaned out the furthest in order to see Fat Bird as she told her tale, slipped of her perch with a brief squawk, and crashed to the floor in an undignified pile of flying feathers and dust. Ruffles, recoiled in horror, shuffled away from Fat Bird barging Able off the perch and on to the roof of the nesting box below banging his beak on the perch during the fall as he stumbled to maintain his balance. Mora, on regaining some composure and realizing what she was about to say was bound to bring an irate Fat Bird down from above her, dived into the nesting box, and warily craning her head out, neck bent so she could see Fat Bird above said. "I don't believe you Fat Bird; everybody knows only dead things lie on their back."

Brilliant.... Loved it.... VBG

 

[Chickncrzylady]

I really enjoyed your stories. I am glad I found them. My daughter and I look forward to more . I would buy your book.

 

[Molpet]

very good stories... although some sad endings, which is life in a chickens world.

 

[drumstick diva]

Will the next story come soon

 

[Shadrach]

Thank you all for reading the stories.
I will post a couple more in the not to distant future.

 

[Shadrach]

I posted this elsewhere. It's a short story to illustrate that even the nicest rooster is really only interested in eggs.
Fudge and Mel
Fudge, now about three months old, a third of the size of the others in the tribe, took an optimistic upward dive for a non existent space on the perch between Fat Bird and her father Cillin. Fat Bird shuffled along the Perch a couple of steps and gave Fudge a gentle admonishing peck or two as Fudge made herself comfortable between Cillin and Fat Bird.
“If you’re going to sit there fidgeting like your sister you can perch somewhere else” Fat Bird told Fudge giving Fudge another couple of pecks.
“I want to sleep next to you” Fudge told Fat Bird, giving what Fudge hoped was her most innocent and appealing look, realizing that it may not be tactful to point out that it’s a lot warmer next to Fat Bird than it is next to mum, who is noticeably skinnier, and with Fat Bird between her and Mel, her sister, Mel is very unlikely to bother her.
Fudge settled, making chic calls quietly and peers under Cillins tail feathers at her sister Mel at the far end of the perch.
“Creep” muttered Mel craning her neck over the back of Cillin hoping she might just reach Fudge with her beak.
“I’m not” protested Fudge her neck shooting out and her eyes looking indignant.
Fudge retracted her head deep into her feathers looking slightly dejected and adds “Ever since you started laying eggs and became daddy’s darling you’ve been horrid.”
Fat Bird lowered a lid of one eye and mutters “she’s always been horrid.”
Despite there only being three and a bit months difference in age Mel had quickly established herself as senior to Fudge and was prone to reminding Fudge of this at every opportunity. Cillin, somewhat out of his depth in the matter of keeping order between his two squabbling daughters shuffled closer to Mel making conciliatory sounds, much to Fudges disappointment.
Ruffles, who had taken refuge from her two squabbling daughters in one of the egg boxes below the perch in an attempt to get some sleep, mutters “anyone who is laying eggs is daddy’s darling” into her breast, then closes the lower lids of her eyes.
Cillin leant over the top the egg box Ruffles had taken refuge in and made affectionate noises, mentioning that nobody cleans his wattles and comb like his darling Ruffles.
Fat Bird deposits a large pile of droppings on the floor below, gave Fudge one last peck on the back of the head and closed her eyes.

 

[Fields Mountain Farm]

I posted this elsewhere. It's a short story to illustrate that even the nicest rooster is really only interested in eggs.
Fudge and Mel
Fudge, now about three months old, a third of the size of the others in the tribe, took an optimistic upward dive for a non existent space on the perch between Fat Bird and her father Cillin. Fat Bird shuffled along the Perch a couple of steps and gave Fudge a gentle admonishing peck or two as Fudge made herself comfortable between Cillin and Fat Bird.
“If you’re going to sit there fidgeting like your sister you can perch somewhere else” Fat Bird told Fudge giving Fudge another couple of pecks.
“I want to sleep next to you” Fudge told Fat Bird, giving what Fudge hoped was her most innocent and appealing look, realizing that it may not be tactful to point out that it’s a lot warmer next to Fat Bird than it is next to mum, who is noticeably skinnier, and with Fat Bird between her and Mel, her sister, Mel is very unlikely to bother her.
Fudge settled, making chic calls quietly and peers under Cillins tail feathers at her sister Mel at the far end of the perch.
“Creep” muttered Mel craning her neck over the back of Cillin hoping she might just reach Fudge with her beak.
“I’m not” protested Fudge her neck shooting out and her eyes looking indignant.
Fudge retracted her head deep into her feathers looking slightly dejected and adds “Ever since you started laying eggs and became daddy’s darling you’ve been horrid.”
Fat Bird lowered a lid of one eye and mutters “she’s always been horrid.”
Despite there only being three and a bit months difference in age Mel had quickly established herself as senior to Fudge and was prone to reminding Fudge of this at every opportunity. Cillin, somewhat out of his depth in the matter of keeping order between his two squabbling daughters shuffled closer to Mel making conciliatory sounds, much to Fudges disappointment.
Ruffles, who had taken refuge from her two squabbling daughters in one of the egg boxes below the perch in an attempt to get some sleep, mutters “anyone who is laying eggs is daddy’s darling” into her breast, then closes the lower lids of her eyes.
Cillin leant over the top the egg box Ruffles had taken refuge in and made affectionate noises, mentioning that nobody cleans his wattles and comb like his darling Ruffles.
Fat Bird deposits a large pile of droppings on the floor below, gave Fudge one last peck on the back of the head and closed her eyes.

I take it Cililn is the sweet talker..
Good story Shad! I love it! Such sassy birds!

 

[Gizabelle]

Great stories! I haven't gotten a chance to read all of them yet, but I love the first story's first person (or chicken, rather) concept with a punch of behavioral insight to tie it all together. It reminded me a little of Richard Adams. Have you read Plague Dogs?
I can see why you didn't write Cheepy's story the same way... pretty difficult to put yourself inside the mind of a chicken that doesn't know "how to chicken"... but it might make an even more engaging read for that very reason.
Keep writing!! You definitely have a keen eye for observation and a great voice as a writer.

 

[Shadrach]

I take it Cililn is the sweet talker..

Of course. He was an orphan and I dragged him up.