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Rights and Privileges November 30, 2010
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Greetings Friends of the Farm,

Thanksgiving Day....The pet hens didn't know that it was a "special day." They just wanted out.
As in OUT. Selfish louts (it's ALL about THEM!)

Since TDay is one of this farm's two vacation days, Larry and I "slept in" until 7 AM. Or, rather, we lay awake until then. When you are used to getting up an hour or two earlier, your body doesn't register "holiday." We might as well have been chickens, but we forced ourselves to stay prone just so we could experience human "loutness.'

An FoF had emailed, wishing his "list" a Happy TDAY and a "four day weekend." I replied that we haven't had a TWO-day weekend in twenty years, but we are hoping for one this Christmas, since Christmas Day will be a Saturday. But no holiday is worth going broke, so we'll have our Saturday farm stand market on FRIDAY instead. Please come. (So we don't go broke.)

The hens don't care about an official Thanksgiving or Christmas Day; as everyday is Christmas if they can get out. It's all about food and water to them, so on Thanksgiving Day, at 7 AM, well, after garbing myself for outdoor duties, it was actually around 7:30; they were already grumbling. I opened the gate to the Run and the hens excitedly boiled out. All except the pets of course. No mundane Run for them!

No sir-ee.

Babette (of the Boss Chicks) took up her position on the water faucet pipe, where she burbled incessant demands, in her decidedly soprano voice, for the main gate to be opened, and "Toe Toe" (Toesy J. Rosey) and Spotty Dottie prowled the perimeter of the inner wire fence alto-grumbling the same message.

I had to deny them the farm, however, for "safety" reasons. We were going out of town to be with Larry;s family for the Big Lunch, so it would not be good for the girlies to be out on their own, what with all the terroristic predators that lurk about.

And after all, I explained to the pet hens, fitting to this particular situation what I've heard on the TV news,"It is not a right, but a privilege" (to fly) (or to be allowed to free-range the farm.) The hens rebutted that, like folks with an airline ticket, they have bought access to the farm -- the payment of which is their EGGS -- and therefore they indeed have a "right"to complete the exchange -- which includes, while out, to eat the first six feet of the kale planting, at least.

I explained to the girlies that they are not in control of many areas of their lives, that in fact, I am the Authority who decides, always with their "safety" in mind, which privileges they can have. I, like any authority, surely benefit from these controls. (But I haven't quite figured out how I benefit.) (Rusty Roo the Rooster, it may be said, is the second Authority, and importantly, he is the one who "gropes." For safety reasons of course. And, benefits. (You men understand this, right?)


Safety IS a big concern. And to provide safety to the inhabitants of the Hen House, I have tried to make the structure impenetrable by "terrorists," which, in chicken society, are dogs, raccoons and opossums. Of course, over the years, especially since the Tornado of 2001, the gates sag and the fencing strays from its posts here and there. To counteract that, I've installed "Nite Guards" -- tiny solar red light blinkers that telegraph to the perpetrators of the night that a fellow terrorist is already on the job, so don't interfere.(This honorable agreement keeps down the inevitable fights amongst competing terroristic allies.) For the last five years, these devices have saved the hens from at least ten invasions/massacres. Thus Larry and I have not been called out at 1 AM to combat such offenses. So, since we get to sleep until 5 AM...the price of the blinkers is justified.

On TDay, I fed the girls a little extra, tossed in some leftover greens, so that they could have a special dinner. Babette, Toesy, and Spotty were not impressed.

I explained to the three Constitutionalists, who were not interested in the TDay greens and grain dinner, that since we have no scanners for raccoons and dogs, and since we have no interest in groping any of these potential terror mongers, there was no way to keep the hens safe while we were on the road to Larry's family TDay celebration. Selfish of us, I know.

While feasting and festing, I would have worried a great deal over the lack of safety for B,T, and S. Thus, as badly as I felt over their, to them unjustified loss of basic hen rights, my locking them in was what it takes to defeat the predators, other than hawks of course, who could attack them from the air as the Run has no roof. Sigh. We need the naked scanners to get those hawks!!!

Babette thinks this is ridiculous. She says, that in her lifetime (13 months), the only terrorists she's seen are kids chasing her half to death on market days. Yes, I reply, you are correct, they are wanting to "grope"you, and that's why I no longer let you out on market day... for your own safety. Of course.

Oh, but she counters shrilly, you let Old Myrtle out every day! Yes again, I say, you are right, but Old Myrtle flies out every day and back in every afternoon. If I could catch her, I would create safety for her and the entire nation by cutting off her flight feathers. Then she would be confined, and safe, forever. Especially since I can't tell her from the other Old Myrtles, and so I wouldn't be able to single her out from them for special privileges.

Remember, Babette, getting out of the Hen House is a privilege -- not a right. And it is surely better for you to mope around in the Hen House than to be allowed to roam at will on the farm, in imminent danger of being groped. Or scanned. Or blown up. Or eaten. Or whatever.

Babette mentions her hero, Benjamin Franklin. She quotes him, trillingly, "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither safety nor liberty."

I reassure her: you are obviously not gracefully giving up liberty, Babette; it is being taken away from you for your own safety, and unless you take a hint from Old Myrtle, you are not in control of your own life. I am.

But don't worry. I know you hate being picked up and groped -- by children, dogs, or me, and I respect that (unless I deem, that I must grope you, for your safety of course), so you be a good hen and another day, once the alerts are over, you will find your rights are back.

I mean, your privileges. Maybe.

Carol Ann

PS: If you have a Hen House, I urge you to consider "Nite Guards"....availabe from local Buck More Feed Supply or online, at http://www.niteguard.com.� (It's wonderful to not have to put on your pj's to go out to battle....)

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