A random collection of quirky pieces and limericks that don't fit into any of my other stories, so I've given them a book of their own. They're a bit out of left field; a lot like me.
My Mum and sister, who live up in the Adelaide Hills, have half a dozen or so chooks. I love chooks, the way they walk, scratch around, cluck and the crazy way they run. Very low stress, but so cute!. The thing I love most though is the beautiful eggs they produce and which until this year I'd received in good supply.
Lately though, they haven't been laying much. What they have laid of course my Mum and sister keep for their own use, which is fair enough. Anyway at Easter time, I gave the chooks a quick pep talk and asked them why they weren't laying many eggs; here's what they told me:
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We're too cold.
We're too hot.
We're too wet.
We're too dry.
We saw a fox lurking. That really ruffled our feathers and sent us into a flap.
She, over there, grabs all the best food, and by the way, she still isn't laying.
We're far too busy making new feathers.
We're sulking, cos we think you might be cross with us.
We're not in the mood.
We'll lay eggs when we're good and ready and not before. Get over it.
My brother-in-law came up with an eleventh one:
We don't like our food; we want more variety!
That fat koala in the gum tree above our house makes horrible noises at night and we can't sleep.
