Denis Lehane: Love is all around... even with the hens
A cockerel can be a romantic old fool. Picture: iStock/Getty Images
A letter arrived at my door yesterday morning from a man concerned about the wellbeing of a hen.
Having nowhere else to turn in his hour of need, he felt I was the only man who could help. And being a fellow with a great knowledge of all things related to the farm, he hoped I might have the answer to his plight.
He began by assuring me that he is a regular reader of this paper and my column. "You're up there with Behan," says he, "or the other fellow with the patch over his eye."
In other words, what he was attempting to convey, was that with regards to composing I'm up there with Beethoven or some fellow. Anyway, I accepted all the accolades. For 'tis rare that they come my way.
But the crux of his letter was that out of all the seven hens in his flock, one particular hen, Maisie, was beginning to look dreadfully dishevelled and out of sorts.
Always a healthy hen, she had been the very picture of vitality up to, and until the arrival of a very youthful and energetic cockerel. Since his touchdown, the hen had been losing feathers faster than I am presently losing hair, and has now taken on a very bedraggled look.
At times resembling someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and on other occasions looking like she was having the time of her life. Confused, bothered and bewildered, the flock owner was at his wits end attempting to discover what could possibly be ailing the poor girl.
"Heavens above," he said. "'tis a puzzle to beat all."
He was greatly concerned you see, and felt there was none that could answer his bird cry only me. Well, thankfully I have the answer to his problem. Which as a matter of fact, is no problem at all.
And so, in an effort to avoid paying for a stamp I will answer it here today on this very page. Maisie's problem, my dear man, can be summed up in the following manner.
If I know anything at all about the hen world, it's that the introduction of a cockerel brings with it a seismic change to the life of those who reside in the hen house. Without wanting to be crude - for 'tis not in my nature - it's clear to me that the cockerel has taken a shine to Maisie.
And Paddy (the flock owner) let me assure you, that this is a most common occurrence.
Regardless of flock size, a cockerel, or cock now to give him his proper title, will always have his favourite hen or maybe two within the house; a pair of hens that he will return to again and again. The cock can be a romantic old fool like that.
So, the few lost feathers, the sense of fatigue noticed in the hen can be easily explained by the antics of an over-exuberant cock. And I can assure you Paddy that you have nothing to worry about in the long run.
Maisie is no pity. In fact, she is possibly the most cherished hen in the coop. And on a week when we celebrate Valentino's of every description, isn't it refreshing to note that even in the humble henhouse, love can blossom.
