The sound of hens immediately takes me back to the garden of my grandparents. My grandma used to keep hens in a shed and as a little girl I didn't dare to come anywhere near them: their feathers & unpredictability freaked me out. I know my grandma's hens were brown, but it's mostly their clucking sound that I recall. A continuous background noise while we picked dahlias or watched my grandma harvest some veggies. Or while we did the coolest thing in the garden: dig for pig bones that the former house owner, a butcher, threw in there. We were true archaeologists...
Even though the chickens at the Verbeke Foundation near Antwerp were predominantly roosters, their sound was somewhat familiar to my grandma's hens. But this time I did dare to approach the poultry. And snapped some pictures too!
(photos of me as a 2-year old in my grandparents garden, taken by my dad)
4 thoughts on “Hens and Roosters”
So sweet Judith! And is that a camera cover you were holding there? Full circle, pretty awesome!
Yes Giova, well spotted! It's a full circle!
Hahaha, die eerste foto… Wat heb je toch een prachtig blog.
Oh lief! Dankjewel :o) (en ja, koddig is hij he!)