All For The Sake of A Feather

It hit me like ton of bricks last night as I was ruffling my feathers to go to sleep. How could I have been so dense? It is really quite simple – the only expert on Britney I know is… Britney! Why didn’t I think of just asking her why she is so desperate to get out? What harm can it do? I spend the better part of the night thinking about the little girl’s suggestion and planning how to approach Britney.

So, this morning after breakfast, I joined her at the fence and asked her why she wanted to get out so desperately. She turned to look at me with those soulful eyes of hers and seemed to weigh her answer carefully. ‘It’s because of my feather?’ she said. ‘Your feather?!’ I asked. ‘But you have a whole body full of feathers! Why do you need another one?’ She looked away briefly and then said, barely audible. ‘It’s Mommy’s feather, she gave it to me the day we were taken and I always kept it tucked away safely under my wing. That day when I escaped, I lost it and I want it back so badly.’ I looked at the poor sentimental dear and wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. That’s it? She’s looking for her mother’s feather and I was trying to psychoanalyze her behavior all the time, certain she’s headed for admission to Holywell Hospital.

Well, I’m happy to say that we enlisted the help of Mr. CEO when he came by for the productivity meeting. By some miracle he could arrange for another ‘mommy feather’ to be brought to Britney from the farm. We really are indebted to these people at the Island; they go out of their way to make sure that we are happy. The change in her is remarkable. Tonight at dinner she was chatty and her eyes had a new luster.

It’s time for me to sign off for the day. I’m so relieved about Britney that not even Henrietta’s prolonged absences bother me tonight - she’s a big girl and can look after herself. Hope you have a good time until we meet again. As my great grandmother in Chile used to say: ‘May all that happens to you, be as joyful as a dream.’

As Life Is So Short, Shouldn’t We Meet Again?

Today I met a real life psychologist who attended a course here at the Island and she explained to me that Britney might be suffering from what she called ‘post traumatic stress syndrome.’ You see, the day when she had to leave her mother, brothers and sisters at a very tender age, was extremely traumatic for her. Leaving was one thing, but the way in which we were forced to leave the farm was akin to torture. 


All four of us were bundled into burlap bag, which was tied with a rope and put in a vehicle. It was so dark in there and Christina kept raising her wings as if she wanted to learn to fly right at that moment to get away from the terrible thing that was happening to us. I don’t remember much of the ride from the farm to the island, but I can tell you that there was the most unearthly music in that car. I’m not sure if you can even call it music. You have to understand that we were used to the sounds of nature – a rooster crowing, cows mooing and at most an owl screeching! But the sound in that car coupled with the darkness and stuffiness of the bag was terrifying! 


Once we got out here at the Island and saw what the dear people here planned for us, we understood that the torture was necessary (maybe not to that degree, but necessary.) Britney never shared our understanding. She remained skittish and scared, deeply hurt and violated by the way in which she had been taken. I’m not so sure what to do, now that I have a better understanding of the dynamics underlying her condition but at least I have a better grasp of the source of her troubles. 


I spoke to the little girl by the fence again today. What a dear little sweetheart she is! This time she showed me lovely illustrations about a poor fatherless rabbit who acted up the whole time. That got us talking about Britney and her issues. Do you know what the little girl said, just as she was starting to walk away? ‘Why don’t you just ask her why she acts funny?’ 

Pure Torture

Why didn’t anyone warn us that exercise can induce torture? We were so enthusiastic yesterday that we did triple our usual program and added a few climbs up and down the ladder in the hen house. This morning none of us could move – we were so stiff! Even Henrietta was in her usual place in the hen house when we woke up.

Mr. CEO was really quite concerned when we didn’t rush to our breakfast this morning as usual. He even tried his funny voice. I’m not quite sure why he does it. It seems a little bit as if he is talking down to us. I wish he wouldn’t do it – aren’t we an equal part of the Island team? But Henrietta loves it when he talks funny. She gets a faraway look in her eyes and says it reminds her of someone she knew long ago.

Well, we managed to peck around the hen house this morning, but no more exercise for us thank you! To be honest, Britney wasn’t doing so well on the regime either. The poor dear was as quiet as ever and only seemed to be losing weight. She wasn’t even drawing in the sand where we have our dust baths any more.

On a lighter note – I met someone today. A little girl came by the fence with a thick book under her arm and she showed me the most delightful pictures. One of the stories in the book is all about a very stupid duck called Jemima. She had to be the densest, most idiotic fowl ever to disgrace the earth! She was swindled by a fox and lost all her eggs and nearly her life! Speaking of which, I heard rumors of renewed fox activity in the neighbourhood. I better keep my beak shut about this. It wouldn’t do to upset Britney further.

You Got To Move It!

Wonderful Wattle Hey?

I’m so excited! I heard rumours that one of the pretty young women here at the Island is something of a fitness fanatic. So, I went to consult her about the problem with Britney and she explained to me why regular exercise is so important. She went through a speech on endorphins, productivity, and serotonin and said that exercising regularly will even help us lay more eggs. Won’t that make the guys in the marketing department smile! So she helped me to work out a regular routine for us girls and we started this morning. (By the way, she also advised me to keep my wattle as it is – the natural look is apparently in vogue.)

Christina is not happy with the new regime. She complains about having to exercise to lay more eggs and feels that we are being neglected out here in the hen house while the other employees have the luxury of indoor facilities. I keep on telling her that she must just bide her time. My great grandmother from Chile always used to say: ‘Only gravediggers start at the top!’ So, I encourage Christina to do her part for the Island and soon they’ll notice our true worth.

Henrietta is giving me a different sort of worry these days. As if Britney’s idiosyncrasies aren’t enough, I’ve noticed that when we wake up in the morning, her usual place is empty. What is she up to? Reading that tattered copy of Sense and Sensibility behind the hen house? She always was a romantic old soul. Surely she can’t be pining for a Mr. Willoughby? Not Henrietta, who is always so efficient, so practical! Well, in the end it has nothing to do with me, really. I made a promise to Britney’s mother, not Henrietta’s. And with the exercise program, we’re making some progress. 

Fashion Advice Please

Well, the results came in and I was pleasantly surprised! It seems like our Britney is right brain dominant and a visual creative thinker. Neurologically, she is also completely blocked under stress and can benefit greatly from brain gym exercises. So that is why us girls stand in a row every morning and do our cross lateral exercises. I think we look like the Irish rugby team warming up for a big match. Right wing over left wing, left claw over right claw and peck at those brain buttons! I must say, it’s a weird affair, but it seemed to be working the first couple of days. I don’t know if it is my imagination but Britney seemed a little brighter. However, this morning she refused to participate and went back to scratching at the fence. I understand her a little better now, but I desperately need a way to reach her!

I need your opinion on something. I’ve been thinking about changing the colour of my wattle. You know, being employed in a corporate environment is really a huge responsibility and image is very important. I have to distinguish myself from common farm hens. So, should I go for a non-permanent option (akin to lipstick) or consider a permanent dye? And what colour?

Henrietta advised me to dye it green permanently in honor of St Patrick. (Poor dear, I’m sure she has more Irish blood in her than her sweet mother would like to admit.) As for me, although I like Ireland, I still consider myself as an immigrant and am proud of my Chilean linage. So, I don’t believe green will quite complement my complexion. I heard that in the psychology of color purple is a good colour for inducing tranquility (to raise egg production), but then again it may lower my appetite and that won’t do because to be stout is a hen’s pride! What do you think?

Analyse This!

I’m so angry! Would you believe that a client made a sarcastic comment about our eggs? ‘Blue eggs?’ he said. ‘Wow, it must have been a really cold morning when your hens laid them!’ I’m livid! The ignorance of people! Doesn’t he (or at least his wife!) watch BBC's Masterchef? Eggs from Araucana hens are considered a royal delicatessen, a treat for the discerning taste. The curse of having to bear with humans of inferior intelligence!

Anyway, as far as Britney is concerned, I’ve got some good news. The other day I was scratching around close to the Island building and I heard a solid piece of advice. ‘If you don’t understand a phenomenon, then analyse it to its smallest part, put it back together and see if you have a clearer grip on its meaning.’ And it came to me there and then – if I don’t understand what is going on in Britney’s brain, I have to analyse it in some way. Luckily the guy handling the human resource issues here at the Island was understanding and arranged for Britney to be evaluated. Christina just bristled her feathers about the whole affair. ‘Assess Britney’s brain? Have you completely lost it now, Beata! How do you measure something that is so small it makes an egg cup looks like Lough Neagh?’ I think that at least we’re making a start to help the poor wee thing. We might just be onto something here. I’ll keep you posted!

It's me Beata

‘Blogging is the new journaling.’ That’s a snippet that I’ve picked up here at the Island, and the reason why I decided to join the world of bloggers. Believe me; I need all the therapeutic benefit that a blog can bestow! Not only is the pressure on to produce more eggs for the Island’s marketing department and in-house kitchen with summer just around the corner, but one of the gals here in our pen is really acting weird and it is worrying me to no end!

But let me start at the beginning – I share the hen house with Christina (also known as Bossy Boots but please don’t let her hear you say that!), Henrietta (the dutiful, practical one) and little Britney. And it is Britney who has me pecking at my feathers! Once, not so long ago she managed to escape from the Island’s grounds and had to be chased down by us hens and the CEO! I watch her closely, I see the signs and I know she is wanting out again. She spends hours at a certain portion of the fence, pecking and scratching. When we were brought here from the farm, I promised her mother that I would look out for her. And now I see her disappearing into her own world more and more. I just don’t know what to do!

Christina says to leave Britney to herself – ‘She’s just the sensitive, arty type. Ignore her antics and go on.’ But I can’t help but wonder – why does she want to escape so badly? Is it the primal female urge to be pursued? Or maybe a need to seek self expression elsewhere (she does make the most beautiful scratching signs in the sand, you know)? Well, I feel better already, just voicing my concerns. I guess I’ll just keep my ears open here around the Island, the right piece of advice to help her might just come to me soon. 

Welcome to my blog!

Hi, I'm Beata, an Aruncan hen and I live with my friends Britney, Christina and Henrietta at the offices of HR and employment law training company Legal-Island. Check myself, my friends, and my owners out at www.legal-island.com. My owners make delicious omelettes with the green eggs I produce – and they give the remainder away as presents to those they network with.

Welcome to my life, I hope you enjoy reading about it!