This is my blog about the day to day lives of my little flock of pet chickens. They're a happy little flock, although they're totally crackers! If you want a laugh, they'll gladly give you one.


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Friday, 3 February 2012

"Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but it takes a real man to handle a redhead."

It felt like Spring was beginning to get sprung, at least as far as Fizz was concerned.  And that was all the encouragement he needed.

Spotting an unwary Rebecca, his long-suppressed urge for a good old bonking session surfaced.  When I say "long suppressed", what I really mean is that he hadn't thought about sex for at least a couple of minutes.

As usual, Rebecca had a headache and wanted none of it, with the result that Fizz ended up chasing her round and round.  Only this time it wasn't round the hen run - it was round and round Irene!   Irene is an easy-going chicken, but this really, really annoyed her after a while.  So she intervened.   She blamed Fizz entirely, chased him, cornered him and gave him a really good glaring at.   That should teach him!   She was still muttering under her breath when she stalked off.

All was quiet for a while.   It was quiet right up until the time Fizz spotted Titian and remembered how much he still loved her.   Now bearing in mind that he's a bantam and she's a full-grown Rhode Island Red, this match was doomed to failure from the start, even if Titian did return his feelings.  Which she doesn't.

He dropped his wings and went into full Rudolf Nureyev mode.   He danced like he'd never danced before; he was inspired, putting all his very best moves into his performance.

How could she resist?   Simple.  She pecked him on the beak.   He was a bit surprised, girls didn't usually peck him on the beak.  He took a step back, ready to start performing again.  At the same time, Titian took a step forward and pecked him on the beak again.   She'd seen how a good glare had worked well for Irene, so she poked her head forward and gave him a good glare too.

That was the last straw!  In a fit of pique (all true artistes get them), Fizz flew at her outstretched head, feet first.  Big mistake, big, big mistake.   She hammered him all across the run, pecking him whenever she closed in near enough to get a beak round his feathers.

Eventually she ran out of puff, stopped, gave him a final glare and walked away.   Had she been human, I imagine she'd have been dusting her hands off and muttering "That'll learn him!"

Trouble is, I don't think it will.   For one thing he's got such a short memory; but more importantly, our Fizz is an eternal optimist.

1 comment:

Shell said...

Aw, poor Fizz. I bet he was glad Titian gave up:)