Another woman in my class tried to connect with either of the two chickens, but she eventually gave up. I found that I had to sit on the ground outside the small coop that enclosed the two hens. I focused on one and gave it buckets of attention and sent it love.
She gradually got closer to me and tilted her head in my direction. Her beady eye stared at me before she strutted off. She didn't have far to go; the enclosure was about four feet long by two feet wide. She pecked at assorted things whilst I got the message that she was getting bored with the tastes and textures in her enclosure. She even pecked at the wood frame of the coop as if it might give up something new and exciting.
Later in class, when Kate asked us to reconnect with our animals, I got the picture of a patch of St. Augustine grass: fresh, broad leaves of grass saturated with light. It was held in the same regard as my ever-hungry teen boy would envision a cheeseburger. I feel that one day next spring when Sparkle is allowed free reign over the ranchette, able to "cross the road" so to speak, she will feast on such grass. It's my hope that she'll be able to find tasty treats before then, but to this chicken, that grass is her ideal.
I sent her some more love and thanked her for her small but poignent message.