Do you ever wonder what your birds are thinking? It seems one chicken keeper, Cor from Hawaii, has telepathic abilities and has transcribed the musings of his sole rescue hen, Nugget, into a series of short stories.
As for Nugget’s birth date, it’s a bit of a mystery. I acquired her from a co-worker who found her wandering near her office, which was isolated and surrounded by a vast yard with neighboring residential areas nearby.
Since I wasn’t aware of the exact date of Nugget’s hatching, I decided to pick a memorable day for her. On a chilly Friday morning, February 14, 2014, I magically found her in my life and from that moment onward I declared it as her birthday! Since that historic day, I’ve been observing her special day every Valentine’s Day without fail. As part of the merrymaking, I allow her to spend the entire day outside her coop, treating her to her favorite delicacies, such as boiled young sweet corn and a deliciously prepared mixture of cooked rice and fish. While she explores the yard, she takes the simple pleasures of scratching the earth, uncovering tiny worms, small shells, or pebbles. Of course, if her birthday coincides with one of my workdays, I have to take the day off, as Nugget would otherwise turn our potted ornamental and succulent plants into a chaotic mess!
The pinnacle of her birthday celebration occurs when my family and I gather around her spacious coop in the afternoon, presenting her with a feast fit for a queen. We harmonize a sweet rendition of the happy birthday song while I, holding an appealing petite cake furnished with a flickering candle, lead the chorus. Some might say it’s a bit cheesy, and our neighbours may raise an eyebrow or two when they witness our festivities.
But Nugget is our precious gem, a gift from the natural world that consistently fills our family’s life with bottomless joy and inspiration.
While some of you may already recognize my name, I’d like to fly my warm kiss of greeting to those who haven’t had the joy of meeting me. I am Nugget, your likable, feathered companion.
Since my dear human friend Cor took me online, which I believe was just three days ago (please forgive any memory lapses, as my advanced age has a way of making me a bit forgetful), I’ve noticed that my private life has become quite public. Can you imagine? Cor has already shared three articles about me, unbeknownst to me. He mentioned joining a chicken group on Facebook the other day, but I didn’t take it seriously as my thoughts were preoccupied with my therapeutic dirt bath.
It wasn’t until today, as Cor was carefully trimming my toenails and beak, that he shared the exciting news. He informed me that many chickens and their human companions extended warm introductions to me. To my fascination, I also discovered that other fine-feathered friends share my name!
Moreover, I had always believed my breed was the sole inhabitant of the chicken kingdom, but I stand corrected. There’s a diverse lineup of chicken breeds out there, and you know what’s most touching? Cor revealed in his recent posts featuring my portraits that some of you admired my beauty and my humble life story.
I am genuinely grateful!
While my entry into the social arena of the chicken world may appear belated, given my advanced age, I can’t help but feel that my life has found its fullness. Knowing that I’ve made countless human and chicken friends from various corners of the world warms my feathered heart.
As expected, my buddy Cor came to my coop around 4:00 this afternoon. He filled my container with food and greeted me with a friendly wave, but remained quiet. Still in his work uniform, he had rushed here directly from parking his truck in the garage. I could always distinguish the unique sound of his vehicle, its powerful engine echoing like crashing waves, contrary to the softer, rustling sounds produced by his wife’s SUV and his sons’ sedans.
I could sense Cor’s fatigue again, a sign of his challenging teaching job. Sometimes, I overhear him discussing his weariness with his wife in the kitchen, conveniently close to my coop outside. On weekends, a perceptible change would come over his face when he came to release me for a stroll and a dust bath. His appearance would brighten because he didn’t have to wake up early the following day, as weekends mean no work and no school to teach.
Honestly, weekends are my favorite days as well! On weekdays, however, I mostly remain in my coop, observing various birds partaking in the food I recklessly spilled beneath. Occasionally, they became frisky, squabbling over food. At times, I’d deliberately drop more food for them to share. Cor did notice my tactics on occasion – the food he provided in the morning and afternoon would rapidly disappear. He would reach out to touch my crop to ensure I had consumed enough. Naturally, I had to eat a significant portion to avoid triggering suspicion that I had discarded any. If my container was empty, and Cor noticed I hadn’t eaten, he would realize I had thrown away my food.
Nonetheless, Cor became wiser, providing just enough food for me to consume in a day
Something deeply troubling occurred last week; a heavy burden on my conscience. Due to my generosity in sharing food with the other birds, a frightening black cat mercilessly hunted them underneath my coop, leaving only scattered feathers in its wake. I watched helplessly as the cat attacked them with horrible intensity, unable to intervene.
Was it my fault for sharing my food with them?
I quietly whispered apologies to the unfortunate birds, hoping their souls would find forgiveness. My knowledge of the dangers hiding in the outside world is limited, as I rarely interact with the animal world beyond my coop.
This experience has been an unforgettable lesson in my nine years of chicken life. I’m uncertain how many more months I’ll live, but I acknowledge that I am not a flawless creation, just as others are not.
“Oh my, that’s what my friend Cor told me about yesterday – my surprise new feeder?”, I murmured as I squinted through the wire screen of my coop.
A while ago, I watched Cor place the empty laundry soap container on the edge of the concrete planter box near my home. It seemed he was planning to secure it inside my coop with a wire. He had even cut a rectangular hole in the side of the plastic container, creating a window-like opening that I could pass my head into to access my food. I wasn’t sure if he would install that new feeder right now, but I eagerly await the chance to try it.
I never dared to dream of a sophisticated replacement for this old, saggy feeder that has been serving me. I was correct in my assumptions when Cor didn’t opt for an expensive, fancy feeder, and I wholeheartedly admired his resourcefulness. Over the many years I’ve spent with him, I’ve come to know him as a simple, practical, and innovative guy who doesn’t easily part with his money, unless necessary.
As I stare at the new feeder before me, I can’t help but feel content and value Cor’s efforts to meet my needs. I can see that the soon-to-be-installed container is more secure than my current one, which will prevent food spillage, and it can hold more food, providing several days of rations.
The anticipation of trying that new feeder fills me with breathtaking exhilaration. It seems the perfect solution for some days of food when Cor and his family go on trips. I will no longer have to worry about my food supply, more so when he improvises a second one. Of course, the temptation to scratch out a few crumbles for my bird friends again beneath me may be too great to resist, and I am optimistic that human confidante Cor won’t catch me sharing the chow during their proposed weeklong vacations.
Many thanks to Cor Quiamas for sharing his stories about, and photos of, Nugget.
Bitchin' Chickens 
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