This past weekend, Lisa and I expanded our vegetable garden, and absorbed the path which had previously separated two beds.
This morning, I went to let the chickens out onto the lawn. This is a high point of our hens' morning. They typically go rushing out as if their tail feathers are on fire, and then proceed to gorge themselves on grass.
Anne Elliott, our Alpha Hen, stood in what had been the path, watching me through the fence as I approached the gate. The newly reconfigured path was three feet to her left; in order to reach the grass, she was going to have to walk around the vegetable garden. Simple, right?
Her neck stretched tall as she tried to puzzle this out. Her head cocked to one side as she pondered her route. Instead of moving in a straight line, she was going to have to turn a few corners. Her beak dropped open and she just froze, staring at the gate.
I walked over and opened the gate, letting the other chickens out. Anne Elliott remained frozen. I think she may have pulled a muscle in her brain.
To cut her some slack, though: it was early in the morning. I'm lucky to find my way out to the garden before my morning coffee.