“Prince Goldie,” said White Betty. “Just look here. First rays of sunshine this year, and I think Bossie Betty is depressed. She’s dug herself a hole so deep she’ll never get out. Can’t you make her get up?”
“She doen’t seem to be listening to me. Not paying attention to the pecking order at all,” Goldie said. “I tried crowing and she just scrunched her eyes shut and ducked her head down.”
“Ooooh! That’s bad, if she’s ducking. She doesn’t even know she’s a chicken anymore. Well, that’s just ducky! I give up on her. I’m leaving.”
“Aw, c’mon! Don’t chicken out, Betts. We can’t just leave her there.”
“Don’t you worry, my pretty Bossie Betty. I’ll stay with you. Right here in this nice sunny spot … ahhhh…. Oh, this is ni-i-i-ice. No wonder you didn’t want to move,” crowed Goldie. “So warm! And the earth smells so wonderful, so dry and aromatic after a winter of wet muck. Yes, I could get used to this.”
“Would you like to go bowling, Goldie?” Bossie asked.
“Yes. Dust bowling. It’s like a beautiful bath and the sun warms you at the same time.”
“I see what you mean, Bossie. Ah yes, it’s fit for a prince. Better than playing in a mud puddle, that’s for sure.”
The chickens squawked out a rhyme today:
After weeks of muck and rain,
Icy cold, depression, pain,
I can see the sun again,
Winter doldrums start to wane.
Nothing like some rays of sun,
Pecking grubs outdoors is fun,
Tasty food for everyone,
Sunshine ’til the day is done.
Bathing in a bowl of dust,
Getting cleaner is a must,
With my hairdo I have fussed,
Now it’s cleaner, only just.