Sunday, May 31, 2009

Yes, of course we're going to throw poo at him!

This morning I was cleaning out the chickens. This is standard procedure, something we do every weekend. Part of the process is lifting all the poo that the little darlings leave scattered around their run. I scoop all of the little piles into a shallow tray. At the end of proceedings this in turn gets tipped into the compost bin, where it's allowed to fester in a constructive manner.

After a few days of hot weather, such as we've just had, this is all a very straightforward job, as, not to put too fine a point on it, the objects in question dry out and are much easier to lift.

This morning all was proceeding as normal until one of our Warrens, who are quite gymnastic, jumped from the top of the fence surrounding the run down into the run. I think she thought I was digging up some lovely worms, and wanted to investigate further. However, she managed to land on the edge of the nearly-full tray of poo, catapulting the contents into the air.

At this point time slowed down, so that I could appreciate the full enormity of what was happening.

I looked up to see what had made the noise.

The incoming turds glittered in the midday sun.

The arc of their trajectory was clear, carving a beautiful parabola through the crystal-clear air.

I was covered in a shower of chicken shit.

At this point I think - I'm not sure, but I think - that I may have sworn.

Come the revolution, I know which chicken's going in the pot first.