It's not that the chickens themselves are hilarious, it's that hilariousness seems to just happen around them.
The other day we went out to get eggs. The girls each brought something to put their eggs in. Hannah brought the egg-basket, Ains brought ... well, she brought a fuzzy orange purse. You have to be born with style like that.
But this post is not about egg receptacles. This post is about egg depositors and the discovery thereof by my two-year old.
I've casually mentioned that eggs come from the chickens when she gathers with me, and once, when we saw a chicken sitting in the nest I told her to leave the chicken alone because she was 'laying an egg'. She's two. I didn't think she 'got' where eggs came from.
So while I was feeding and watering, Hannah started gathering eggs. I'd dumped some hot rolled oats into a few of the feeding pans (it was COLD! and I'm a softie) and the chickens were gathered around those eating like mad. I couldn't see Ains helping Hannah and didn't want Hannah to hog all of the eggs, so I said "Ains, do you want to get some eggs?"
"Yesh." she says. So she leaves off playing with the kittens and walks over to the chickens. She walks up behind one of the Marans, picks up its tail (it squawks), looks at its bum and then moves onto the next chicken.
I forgot all about egg-gathering fairness and just watched, bemused, as my little one walked around pulling chickens bums up to eye-level and they *let her*. They were so into those hot oats, the most reaction she got from the inspection was a 'squawk!' before they went back to eating - usually before their feet even hit the ground again.
Then Ainsley turned to me and said sadly "No egg." I have more consideration for my daughter's feelings than my cats. I didn't laugh nearly as hard. Though I wanted to. Lordy, did I want to.