by katie zwarts
My grandfather was something of a rogue, but he could often be found of a morning snoozing on the porch with a chicken under one arm for warmth and a dog at his feet. the chickens had free reign of the garden and the house.
One christmas we received some drawings he did of the four chickens he had at the time. i love how each is described:
"Sally, very nervous, easily alarmed"
"Olga, deep voice, top of the pecking order, smallest egg"
"Plaakie, my favourite, spoilt, comes in the house to eat. big beautiful brown eggs. talks to me"
"Helen, elegant, dignified, don't know her very well"