Well, it happened! Hank has been banished to his yard when our chickens are out. Banished! (But only when the Chickens are out, Mom said.)

(This photo was taken last summer, Mom liked the colors so used it here for the story.)

See here is what happened….

Well, maybe I had better defend Hank first; you have to understand Hank must have bird dog in him, that is my story and I’m sticking to it.

Hank was up visiting when he told Boomer and me that he sometimes has dreams of eating a whole chicken all by himself.  (He said this as one of the chickens walked across the road in a scurry to get to Mom as she was bringing out the scraps for the day.)

He went on to say that he caught a mallard duck down at the swamp, (before he got his lovely shock collar) brought it home and had a great feast until Mom-mom and the kids got home.  There was lots of ‘bad dog’ and other things that made Hank have a heavy heart.

I looked at him rather surprised, “You mean wet chicken don’t you?”  The kind that comes without bones and is all canned up and well, very dead?” I asked him.

Boomer looked at Hank with a totally blank look on his face…”Why would you want to eat something that you have to chase, mug and then de-feather?” he asked Hank.

We both stared at Hank…his eyes were glazed over and drool was coming off his mouth.  “Your mouth is watering, Hank!”  Boomer sort of screamed at Hank.

“Slurp, slop, drool. Gosh I’m sorry.  Slurp…slurp…chickens are just dumb birds….slurp, which are placed on this earth to slurp…”

“Gosh, sorry!  The strain is just too much.”  Hank said as his stood up.  “I think I had best go home now.”

“You can’t go home, Hank.  Your people brought you up here to stay with us until they get back from going to Grand Junction.”  Boomer pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I had better, hummm, go sit around in the sun on the other side of the house.”

Hank’s eyes seemed to drift over to where Mom was and all four of the hens, even as his feet were moving him over to the east side of the house.

Suddenly one of Mom’s chicken’s decided to run to the front yard, just spread her wings out and took off running, sort of like an airplane heading for a take-off.

That is when Hank took off.

That boy is fast, I can give him credit for that!

Mom saw Hank and knew just what he had in his little Hank pea-brain.

“HANK!” she yelled “You have better not……………………………………!!!!”

She got to where the chicken was —– just after Hank got there.

I sure didn’t know Mom knew how to play football, and I think Boomer and Hank didn’t know it either, but hummm, well she must, because she tackled that dog just as he was trying to dodge around Mom.

The chicken squawked and flapped and ran fast as her hen legs could carry her to the hen house, the other three chickens squawking and clacking right along with her.

Hank found out that attacking Mom’s chickens is a serious crime on our farm and doing so will get a guy in big trouble.

Mom feeds those chickens and pets on the hens every day.  Every day she gets anywhere from three to four eggs from them and she takes a very dim view on anything that wants to hurt (eat) her hens!

A VERY dim view!

Hank found out how dim her view can be.

So now Hank can’t come over if the chickens are out.

No siree.

Fuzzy