from the book (again)

             Venus ventures into the yard, despite the danger of poop on slippers, and walks over to Momma.  Hugging herself in her bathrobe, she watches as corn is spread.

            “Look at Hazel,” she says.

            “Yes, it’s bad.”  Hazel is their name for the lowest hen in the pecking order.  As usual, her feathers are half picked off.

            “Why is Simon [the rooster] so mean?”

            “It’s not Simon.  What does he have to complain about?  He’s got ten hens he can fuck any time.  It’s the other hens.  They all want him to themselves so they attack each other.  Hazel is the weakest.”

            The explanation is necessary because Venus grew up in New York City and is the person here least familiar with such things.  She shakes her head at the injustice of it all.

            Momma adds, “Of course, if there’s two roosters, they fight each other.  In fact they’d rather do that than fuck the hens.  That’s why we only have one.”

            Venus looks over at Simon, who is busily pecking not at hens but at corn.  “Lucky guy.”