I watch the chickens daily, but I will never understand them and how their tiny bird brains operate.
When they are allowed out of their yard, they are in constant motion (Ok, except the Large Blonde One, who ploomphs down in her dust bath, never to stir again). They grab a bite of grass, then hustle their bustle over to another, seemingly identical patch of green, snag a bite, move on, bite, etc. Why not just stay still in one spot and eat the reachable greenery?
Because that bit over there looks yummier…no wait, that bit over there! – no, no, the patch off to the left is best…
and before you know it, they are in the front yard, eyeballing the tall lush grass across the street in Pearl and Tony’s yard.
