Monday, August 16, 2010
They're still hanging around the neighborhood, living of the fat of the land. The hens move with stately grace, pausing every now and then to delicately strip some grass of its seeds. They'll use their beaks to gently grab a stem just below the seed head, then pull up with their beaks, shucking all the seeds straight into the gullet. The chicks have not yet learned to move with such grace. They bumble.