Gatsby and the chickens.

Our neighbors told us that I wouldn't have to worry about our outside cat bothering the chickens because cats instinctively know that a full-grown chicken can take out a cat's eye with one swipe of its foot.

Gatsby was here first, having found us in late July. The chickens came later on, in mid-September. So far, even though I think Gatsby gets jealous of the time I spend with the chickens, everyone seems to be not only getting along, but "playing nicely" as well.

When Gatsby eats his dry cat food up on the side porch, the chickens sometimes gather round him and stand there watching him eat. When Gatsby is done and starts to lick his paws and clean his face, the chickens descend on his bowl and actually peck at (and eat) the bits of kibble left in the cat food dish. Gatsby doesn't seem to mind this... he will stop his paw-licking and face-cleaning to watch the chickens peck the Purina One into teeny pieces before they can actually eat it. (Chickens do not have teeth, according to my creature-knowledgeable friend V).

Every afternoon when I give the chickens their treat of corn, Gatsby is right there in the grass with them, gobbling up the corn kernels. The chickens don't seem to mind Gatsby right in the middle of them all, which is where he usually positions himself, and there they all will stay until every last kernel of corn is gone... Gatsby, four chickens, and two Guinea hens. And when the corn is gone, it's always Gatsby and Dolly who walk up to me and look me right in the eyes, as if to say "That's all? There's more corn in that can, you know!"

I've been trying to give them just half a can of corn per day. I had been buying the WalMart brand of corn, which was 62 cents per can. For the past few weeks, Green Giant canned corn is 50 cents per can, so I stocked up on those. My husband pointed out that for the two eggs that we get every day from the chickens, it's costing us the chicken-feed, a slice of WalMart white bread, plus half the can of fifty-cent corn. "So much for free eggs," he says. Of course he's right..... but finding a fresh warm egg in the nesting box is a lot more fun than buying a dozen eggs at WalMart that were "fresh" about three weeks ago.

So far, only Dolly and Henny Penny continue to lay eggs on a regular basis. Jaye-Bird is now big enough to be giving us eggs, but she hasn't started yet. I don't know what it will take to get her to understand that the chicken feed and the canned corn aren't given to her just because she happens to be a pretty chicken.

And I've just about given up on the Guinea hens laying eggs. All they do is walk around the yard eating bugs, then they'll fly up on the garage or the house and squawk a bit until they're ready to get down. It amazes me how well they fly...... they look sort of off-kilter and bottom-heavy, but they're fairly graceful in the air. And poor Audrey-Bird....... she's definitely an older hen and we're not expecting eggs from her at all. We also have to make sure she gets her fair share of the bread and the corn we give them because the Guinea hens are so much quicker than she is and they will snap up any food bit that Audrey is trying to get.

We had been thinking of buying two miniature horses from the nuns at the convent on the road going to Navasota. We thought about it..... and went to see the horses, which of course are just as cute as cute can be. But on a day not too long ago here, when our dog was constantly underfoot in the kitchen, and the two inside cats were fighting over who was going to sit in the chair by the front door when the sunlight was pouring through the glass and warming up that seat cushion, and Gatsby was meowing by the back door for his lunch, and the chickens all came marching up on the porch because I had forgotten it was canned-corn time.... I told my husband that I didn't think I really wanted two miniature horses out in the pasture behind the barn.

"And what changed your mind?" he wanted to know. I told him the last thing I needed that day was something else that needed to be fed, be brushed, be walked, be brought in out of the rain, be taken in or out of the barn if the weather got too hot or too cold. "The inn is full," is what I finally told him.

My husband laughed. And so did I. We started saying "the inn is full" years ago, when we just had two cats, both of which stayed outside.