Quotes About Hens

I spent every summer as a child at my uncle's farm in Illinois so I know all about gathering eggs and how the hens will peck at you.

meat didn't come from the actual meat around the diaphragm of hens. As long as guests had the opportunity to see a waiter bring a sizzling platter of something to their table and warn them that the platter was hot, that was a fajita.

Mrs. Whichcoat came in the back door with an empty wire basket. She hung it up in the pantry and took off her brown garden gloves. "All the hens have stopped laying," she said. "I didn't get one egg." There was a note of despair in her voice but no surprise. It was as though she had warned all along that there would be treachery one day in the hen house.

The coops were finished. They were not masterpieces, and I have seen chickens pause before them in deep thought, as who should say: Now what in the world have we struck here? But they were coops, within the meaning of the act, and we induced the hens to become tenants.

Enough , you hens! Niobe exploded. It's tentative! Lachesis snorted As tentative as a pregnancy,girl!

My hens?" he said, outrage bringing the blood to his face.

To find out what color egg a hen will lay, examine her earlobes. Hens with white earlobes lay white eggs; hens with red earlobes lay brown ones.

In the rainy season, back home, when the land had given way to water and the buffaloes grew webbed feet, when the hens took to the roofs, when marooned goats teetered on minuscule islands, when the women splashed across on the raised walkway to the cooking hut and found they could no longer kindle a dung-and-husk fire and looked to their reserves, when the rain rang louder than cow bells, rice was the means, the giver of life.

little inquisitorial committee of hens.

We came up the hill by the fort, stopped at Matt Cleary's, a contrarian. We left the bicycles by the cow cabins. Matt was out in the haggard and came warily, followed by a little inquisitorial committee of hens.

Margherita Margheritone put the pot of water on the fire and the Wicked Witch emptied the sack into it and the little wash-bear jumped out and started biting both of them, went down into the yard and started eating the hens, and threw all the rubbish into the air.

Men don't worry a lot – not nearly so much as the women. Real bad worriers women are, and wives are the worst of the lot. One of the things that put me off marrying was hearing the way they go on. If it isn't their husbands it's their children, and if it isn't their children it's their clothes, or their hens, or their cats, or their dogs, or what their neighbours think.