Chicken interest prose

In spring, cocks with bright and fat feathers can be seen everywhere in rural courtyards, with their heads held high and a group of thin-legged hens pecking at grass or insects freely. The rooster found a bug and was reluctant to enjoy it. He picked it up and put it on the ground and pecked it again and again. His mouth mumbled to the hen, who knew it and rushed to devour it. After eating, I look around, cooing and strolling leisurely. When a stray rooster comes in, the two cocks fight angrily. There is a child on the sidelines: "Chickens and chickens fight, and two bowls of meat are served!" The cock will fight harder and harder. The feathers on the neck are angry, and the eyes are still staring at each other up and down. In the glare, the wings suddenly rise, the feet are slammed, and the red crown on the other side's head is ruthlessly pecked. After a while, the defeated rooster's head was bloody and his feathers were scattered, and he reluctantly tightened his wings and fled with his tail between his legs. The greedy dog flew past, and the chickens were frightened. They flapped their wings, croaked and screamed, and fled everywhere, frantically flying up the low wall, up the old tree and into the vegetable garden. Disappointed puppies left, licking their tongues bitterly. They met in calling friends again and ate together ... What a beautiful pastoral painting!

In my memory, every family in my childhood hometown had to keep a few chickens. On the one hand, eggs can supplement the family, and on the other hand, when there are holidays or relatives and friends coming, you can kill one or two and enjoy them beautifully. At that time, chickens were all free-range, and there was no henhouse. Hang a few crossbars under the eaves casually, and find a small rafter to climb obliquely at dusk. Chickens will climb to the shelf along the rafters, line up next to each other to rest, and then remove the rafters to prevent wild cats from disturbing them. Hanging from the corner of the wall is a broken backpack, which is padded with some wheat straw and becomes a chicken nest. Some farmers will build a narrow and long alley with adobe, which will be sealed tightly as a chicken coop. Drive the chicken in at night, block the entrance, and compact it with wooden boards to prevent the weasel from sneak attack at night. Some people are more lazy, just let go and let the chickens live on the fruit trees in the yard.

chickens were easy to raise at that time. Early in the morning, the early village women came back with water, opened the sealed chicken cooing door, and the chickens swarmed out. The village woman carried a dustpan and shouted, "Moe-lotus root-moo-moo-moo", and the chickens rushed around the village woman impatiently, scattering some glutinous rice casually, which was enough to fill their stomachs. Those chickens that live on the chicken rack and fruit trees have already flown to the ground to feed. Farmers are busy, and chickens are walking happily in the courtyard village dam.

March and April of the lunar calendar is the peak season for laying eggs. A hen lays an egg a day, which is very safe. There is a joke in the village: two village women boast about their hens. One repeatedly said, "My hens can lay eggs, one a day, one a day"; The other said slowly, "Can it be called? My hen is half a day ... one, half a day ... one! It made people around you laugh. I think this joke came into being in this season. Because chickens are free-range, some farmers don't even have a decent nest, so hens often lay their eggs in grass nests or other people's nests. The hostess hasn't seen an egg for several days, and she mistakenly thinks that her hens are fanning the nest (dialect: holding the nest). I remember when I was a child, I once came to my backyard to pick up wormwood and found seven or eight eggs lying quietly in a round grass nest, which was very pleasant surprise. I quietly picked it up and put it snugly in the wheat in the cupboard. Later, I took it and changed several pencils.

The hen who laid eggs jumped out of the henhouse, blushed and shouted proudly: I (è) didn't (mo) step on the egg ... I didn't step on the egg ... A red rooster peeped on the fence for a long time, suddenly crowed and laughed excitedly: God ... I know! Then he flew to the hen's side with a murmur in his throat, gentle and tender, one leg jerked in haste, and stretched his left wing like a spasm. Then he spread his right wing and wiped the ground to draw a beautiful semicircle, dancing and hugging, and the hen quickly squatted on the flat ground. The rooster couldn't wait to jump on the hen's back, bite the hen's little crown, and beat his wings and ass vigorously. The hen shook her feathers, the cock stretched his hands and feet, and began to feed happily again.

after the crazy laying period in January and February, hens began to fan their nests. The hen who stirs her nest is just like a drunk, dull, always in love with her nest and doesn't like food. There is an old saying in my hometown: when my mother-in-law meets her son-in-law, she is like a hen fanning her nest. It probably means that the mother-in-law is as happy as drunk when she sees her son-in-law. This is the most appropriate metaphor. As soon as the hen fanned the nest, it was time to hatch the chicks. The village women are very clever. They hold the eggs in their hands, shake them and listen to them in their ears. By experience, they can identify which eggs can hatch. Then put the picked eggs into the henhouse, and the hen who fanned the nest squatted in the henhouse all day, warming every egg with her body and quietly waiting for the arrival of her children. Unless you are very hungry, you occasionally jump out of the henhouse, eat wildly in a panic, and quickly rush back to the nest. This kind of maternal love once moved me deeply. In order to hatch their children, hens eat only a small amount of food every day, and they have to persist for more than 2 days! On the 21st day or so, the hen cooed softly and the chick hatched. The chicken is yellow and fluffy, which is very cute. After three or four days, the hen can walk around with her chicks. Occasionally, an eagle swoops in from a distance, and the hen quickly calls for her children and shelters them under her wings. Suddenly, her whole body swells a lot, and she stares at the eagle intently and bravely confronts ... What a great mother's love! When danger comes, she always protects her children and forgets her own safety.

Now, there are fewer free-range chickens in rural areas, and there are many farmed in houses. Because the house-feeding culture is larger in scale, the economic benefit is obviously much better. There are a lot of "laid-off chickens" sold in the market, their fur is decaying, and their eggs lack the freshness and fragrance of the past. Hens lay eggs without roosters. There are no more chickens that run in the wrong nest and lay the wrong eggs. It is hard for children in the city to see the sight of hens protecting their chicks.