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The banty is sitting.
And sitting.
And sitting.
She’s wanted to sit on a nest all her life. Back when she was a teenage chicken, she picked out her favorite nesting box and started sitting. The other chickens would roost at night and she would sit in the box. When the other hens went out dancing, she would sit in the box. The other hens played volleyball and learned to tat and she sat in the box.
The other hens said she was one feather short of a full nest, and she said, “I AM A MOTHER HEN! AM TOO.” She didn’t care if they made fun of her.
And then finally she laid three little eggs in her box and she could sit all day, day after day! She was going to be a mother now! She’d show them.
Only it’s been nearly a month. There’s nothing in those eggs.
And she won’t stop sitting.
Somebody needs to tell her the truth. Somebody needs to get her up off that nest. Somebody needs to tell her she might as well go dancing. I feel kinda bad about it, though. She wants to be a mother so bad! Maybe I can get somebody else to tell her.
Pocahontas: “Can I have all the licorice treats in the jar if I tell her?”
Annabelle: “Do you want me to tell her she’s a dog? We don’t sit on nests.”
Representative from the Pond District: “We would like for ALL of the chickens to sit in boxes forever. Thank you.”
Clover: “She should stay there. I completely understand. I’m a mother, too.”
Giant Puppy: “Do I get to eat the eggs if I get her off them?”
I can’t get any cooperation around here.
Maybe you could tell her???
