I haven't mentioned chickens in a long time. I hope you appreciate my Herculean self-restraint. Last week the twins and I went to visit a friend's coop, and meet their hens. It was helpful to see the set up of perches and feeding troughs. I had lots of questions which he cheerfully answered. But my favorite part was when he whistled. He had a fist full of their favorite nibbles... sunflower seeds, millet and corn, and when they heard him call they stopped mid bug to come scurrying to his feet. He did not disappoint. There was dessert waiting for them.

I wanted to do that too. The girls and I talked about a call we could all make, since they have not mastered a strong whistle. We agreed on lululululululululululu.

With a cup full of canned corn I waited until they were already in spitting distance. I tried it. They cocked their fluffy heads but at the sight of bright yellow kernels they came flying. Up until this point our relationship depended on me hunting for them in the road or the neighbor's yards and herding them home. Now things were about to shift. 

I did it again the next day and the next and their response time has decreased dramatically. I yodel, chickens appear.  It's an extremely gratifying feeling. 

It has become a budding obsession. What would they enjoy? I have cooked up the white rice I save for bean bags, sliced up soft cucumbers, and even added cinnamon to the apple peelings. It helps that neighbors have been generous enough to leave food scraps inside my back door. Yesterday was a party, with a bag of browning lettuce, soggy tomatoes and wilted spinach. 

The thought crossed my mind that I could be as excited about feeding John. While he never complains when the meal is mostly gluten and cheese, two things he eschews rather than chews, he is genuinely appreciative of a fresh salad. He almost clucks. The other day at the store I put snap peas and blueberries in my cart, thinking of his smile. He would like that. 

Because I do want him to come when I call.