I wanted land, kids, horses, dogs and CHICKENS. What was I thinking? 
They fooled me with their toddling, round, fluffy, cute bodies. Silky, perfectly laid feathers, chortling to me and amongst themselves makes them irresistible. I didn’t realize that like a pod of killer whales they were plotting their next attack. Yes attack. Now I am not really talking about the overt, mean hearted surprise rooster attack; that you would expect. But the under-feathered sneaky, low life assault on my garden and sanity is something that makes me want to tar and feather…well they have feathers but tar would still be on the list …along with a pot of hot water. Violent thoughts? Yes, but look at what they did? Those hens can and have committed multiple sins which can occur in a single day and pushes me over the edge. These birds have everything they need and more. Every morning they are let out and not only do they get out into the green grass of freedom they fly out of their electric fence and into the yard. I let that offense go. Each night we make sure they are safely closed in and the electric fence is is on complete with a night light. But each morning they are completely free. My kids think that cooped up chicken is abusive. But let me tell you that rouge chickens are dangerous. I slaved this past fall, digging, turning over and amending very dense, heavy clay. This soil is like digging rocks-nothing like my vermiculite filled Connecticut soil. I mean I prepared at least 10 yards worth of garden soil to plant my bulbs. I dreamed of colors dotting the landscape coaxing springs’ return. I planned the height and color scheme, to the point of absurdity. Well, it was all for naught, because despite the 4 inches of bedspread those chickens dug up each one.
This is all that’s left-naked bulb.
They lay there like uncovered babies vulnerable to God knows what; voles, squirrels…vermin. I screamed a blood curdling cry like no other in gardening history. Why was I so naive? Why didn’t I keep them in? Why didn’t I lay down fencing on top of the bulbs? I shake my head reliving this day. I think there were tears but I was seriously sinking into PTSD. So that was it. Looking at those 50 bulbs made me walk away. Do you know that they are still laying there uncovered? Months have passed and I have ignored them…you know I am in denial. Heavy debilitating denial covers me unlike my bulbs. I hate those chickens.
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