Party Chickens

Ever heard a chicken with hiccups?  Yeah, me neither...until yesterday evening.  

We had a group of our nearest & dearest over yesterday to celebrate Jason's 40th birthday, and it was a great day.  It was one of those perfect events where the people that you love and never get to see all together were largely able to be here, and through some miracle, my hostessing duties were virtually finished by the time the first guests arrived.  For once, I was able to relax and visit too. 

My intended chicken itinerary was to let the girls roam at first and then to pen them up when the food came out, so that they wouldn't be obnoxious and start snatching treats out of little hands.  However, they seemed a bit cowed by the number of humans, big and small, in the yard, and for a while Fern, Betty and Roxie stayed on the edge of things.  Even Ramona, while more adventurous, was using her manners.  So, I let the girls continue to run around, much to the delight of the children also roaming the yard.

As more people arrived, I got busier and asked some friends to let me know if the girls became a nuisance.  The next time that I caught up with the chickens, they were neck-deep in snacks from the kids--potato chips being the main course, supplemented by watermelon, graham crackers and who knows what else.  Then came baby Mia's high chair tray--a smorgasbord of potato salad, hamburger, pasta salad and related goodies.  Mia was finished, the tray was on the ground--need I say more?  We had four chickens wiping potato salad from their beaks for ten minutes afterward.

I think I finally realized how much food the girls had had when my friend reached down with a piece of pasta--the ladies' all-time favorite--and we watched Ramona eye it, cock her head, and then turn away.  Whoa.  Is it possible:  a FULL chicken??

 
As the afternoon dwindled, our guests also began to say their goodbyes.  Finally, there were just a handful of us left, sitting in the shade of the pergola, when a funny noise occurred.  Ramona was making an odd squeak every few minutes.  At first, we thought that she was alerting her girls to some dangerous creature...but nothing appeared, and no one else seemed alarmed.  The other girls were, however, coming up to Ramona and looking intently at her face--even leaning in closely as if there were something wrong or she had missed a spot of potato salad.  And then it hit me:  pretty sure those are hiccups.  My greedy chicken had eaten so much that she'd given herself hiccups!

Eventually, Ramona stopped squeaking.  The rest of our guests went home, and Jason & I lighted a lantern, re-applied some bug spray, put our fat chickens to bed, and enjoyed the beautiful night alone in our now-quiet back yard.  Jason had had a great time, and we rehashed some of the party's highlights as the night deepened around us.  It had been fun to see how our guests adjusted to having chickens underfoot--such kind people to accept our strange pets and love us as we are.  Ramona had been picked up, petted, and passed around all day long--really, the nicest little feathered creature imaginable.

And, this morning, four sassy ladies came barreling down the ladder from their coop once I opened the door to let them out--no one had gone into a diabetic coma or otherwise expired overnight in reaction to the mountains of human food they had consumed.  Really, a successful party for the whole family!