Late Night Task

Someone who is watching television or at a bar with friends may hear of my late night task, and think, "Poor You."

As darkness falls, I move the eleven young hens from their house to the old hen house. This annual early summer ritual must be done to make room for the chicks.

With an almost-full moon in the clear sky, I need no flashlight to illuminate the hens as they snooze in the nesting boxes and on their roost.

Picking up one, I nestle her in the crook of my arm and pet her soft feathers. She chirps softly in her semi-slumber. I run my fingers down her scaly leg, checking for an identifying yellow band. I admire her heft.

I carry the hens, one by one, from the young hen house to the old hen house. There, I place them on the roost. My pace is neither hurried nor slow as I watch the sky fall into darkness.

As darkness falls on the farm, the crickets sing their lullaby. An owl hoots. I smell the lingering smoke from the brush fire. I admire the moon and enjoy the still, cool June air, and think, "How lucky am I?"