Ever lived with teenage chickens? They're noisy and clumsy. We had four long-legged, yellow-legged, utterly teenage Aracauna hens at once.

The 'Caunas were not civilized. The Rhode Island Reds pretended to be civilized. The 'Caunas weren't.

My favorite two 'Cauna moments both involved a severe need for speed.

It was usually Aurora and George who clupped up the most. George would squawk whenever you grabbed her, "Clup clup clup clup clup!" and that's how they got their name. They always ran everywhere on those long yellow legs.



One fine morning, two 'Caunas were running, full tilt, across the yard. Their trajectories intersected, and there was the inevitable collision. With the impeccable grace of twin pinballs, the hens bounced off each other and exchanged energies, the one hen now running in the other hen's original direction, and the other hen headed towards the destination, if not destiny, of the first.


Another day, there was another 'Cauna intersection. The whole family had been advised of what had happened with the first noted collision, so we waited to see what would happen. This time, one planted a big yellow foot on the moving back of the other, and went over, while the other ducked and squawked some, but both continued on their rushed, if not merry, ways.