Chicken Guardian – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Sweetie: Lady Human, I have been giving this possum situation some thought.

Me: Uh-oh.

Sweetie: The chickens need a guardian and I’m it.

Doodlebug: What about me? I’m the King.

Sweetie: Sure, if you want to sit with me outside the Chicken House all night every night.

Doodlebug: Well, let’s not be unreasonable.

MoonCat: No, let’s never be that. Which is why I’ll maintain my cushy bed inside and happily welcome all reasonable bulldogs back inside when they tire of guard duty after ten minutes.

©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.

The Loudest Mouths – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Sweetie: Lady Human, how come birds are so loud, louder than anything else, louder than bulldogs?

Me: You mean because of the cacophony we were just treated to from the chickens and the parakeets?

Doodlebug: It doesn’t seem right.

Sweetie: They squawk and yell and cockadoodle-doo for no reason at all.

Doodlebug: And it doesn’t make sense.

MoonCat: Hmmm. Doesn’t seem right and doesn’t make sense. Sounds like some four-legged critters I know.

©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.

What Do You Mean There Are Birds in Our House? – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Lady Human, there are two tiny chickens in our house.

Me: Not chickens. Parakeets.

Sweetie: I think what Doodle means is, THERE ARE BIRDS IN OUR HOUSE! You have always said that birds do not belong in the house.

Me: No, I said chickens don’t belong in the house. These are parakeets. They are a gift to me from Tall Man.

MoonCat: If they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them. Deal? Deal.

Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.

Just Back Up – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Lady Human, we have a problem.

Sweetie: Uh-oh!

Me: I’m hearing that word a little too often.

Sweetie: Tappy the Chicken is stuck between the gate and the door! She walked in, but she can’t turn around.

Doodlebug: Chickens are so stupid.

MoonCat: Meow. Bulldogs should be careful about who they call stupid.

Sweetie: Help, Lady Human! She’s hopelessly trapped!

Me: Not hopelessly. She just needs to back up. Sometimes a few steps back is all it takes. I’ll be there in a second.

Doodlebug: Never mind! She backed out. Dumb chicken.

MoonCat: Meow. One wonders how long it would have taken a bulldog to figure that one out.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Chicken Barking – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. That noise must stop.

Me: You mean your barking?

Sweetie: No, Lady Human, you know what noise. That awful chicken barking from outside.

MoonCat: Meow. Yes, it must stop. It is worse than bulldog barking if that is even possible…which it is not.

Me: Chickens don’t usually respond to commands.

Doodlebug: So, they do have something in common with bulldogs.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Chicken Sitting – Conversations with Sweetie

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Sweetie: Lady Human! I have a new friend.

Me: I saw that.

Sweetie: She is really nice and friendly and not scared of my big ole bulldog face at all. And she didn’t say anything. Nice and quiet.

Me: Yeah. She just stood right by you the whole time you sat in the patio. Kind of strange for a chicken.

Sweetie: What chicken?

Me: Your new patio friend. She’s a chicken. Remember. We talked about chickens. The birds that have wings, but they only flap and don’t fly.

Sweetie: She doesn’t fly away and she doesn’t talk. Perfect in every way.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Mad as a Wet Hen – Conversations with Sweetie

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Sweetie: Lady Human, it’s that big bird again.

Me: Yeah, I see her.

Sweetie: She’s all wet. How come?

Me: It rained earlier. She must have decided to stay out in the downpour instead of going inside her house.

Sweetie: Is that why she’s in my space, stomping around?

Me: She’s probably just trying to figure things out.

Sweetie: Well, one thing she needs to figure out is when to come in out of the rain.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

So, Chickens Are Good for Something – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Chickens live in our yard. Why? Lady Human will not let us chase them or eat them. What good are they? Fluffy white little weird two-legged things that have wings but cannot fly, that make loud squawky noises but never say anything intelligent. It’s almost like they are cats.

20150925_101355.jpg

Me:        Why are you so down on the chickens? I’ve seen you standing out there staring at them.

Stella:    Because they are funny-looking and funny smelling. And their pointy faces look angry all the time, so I keep waiting for them to tell me why. As queen, I may be able to do something about their complaints.

Me:        Are you now going to be queen of the Silkie Chickens?

Stella:    Hmmm. If they need a queen, I would be willing to serve. But they would have to stop being so weird.

Me:        They don’t think that they are weird. They just think that they are chickens.

Stella:    What is that you have there? Eggs?

Me:        Yes.

Stella:    That doesn’t look like the eggs that they have kicked at us in the yard.

Me:        Those were raw. These are hard boiled. I cooked them.

Stella:    How horrible! Lady Human, you cooked the chickens’ babies? NO!

Me:        We talked about this, Stella. These eggs were never going to be baby chickens. There is no rooster. That means there is no daddy. These eggs will just stay eggs. I didn’t notice you and the others refraining from the eggs that they kicked at you. Where was your outrage then?

Stella:    We figured that any eggs they kicked out couldn’t be their babies so…Wait, what are you giving Wiggles, and Sweetie, and Tiger, and Doodlebug?

Me:        I just peeled the shells off the cooked eggs. Would you like to try one?

Stella:    Well, if you’re giving them away…I guess I could taste one…just one.

Me:        Here.

Stella:    Where have these been all my life? More. More! MORE!

Me:        One is enough for now. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. What do you have to say about chickens now?

Stella:    How many chickens are there?

Me:        Six.

Stella:    And how many of these things can they lay?

Me:        About one a day. Sometimes they skip a day.

Stella:    So where are all the eggs they have been laying?

Me:        We and our human neighbors have a claim on them, too, you know.

Stella:    Not anymore.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Never Hold a Conversation with a Chicken – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Chickens are ignorant. If you attempt to talk to them, you are wasting your time. People say that chickens are intelligent, but people are wrong. How can they be all that smart with those tiny little heads and pointy faces?

If you start a conversation with a chicken, you will end up disappointed.

Me:        Well, let’s try this. Hey! Squawky! What’s going on?

20150925_101355.jpg

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaakk!

Stella:    You see! She doesn’t even know how to pronounce her own name.

Me:        Maybe she was not saying her name.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaakk waak!

Stella:   There! That’s not even the same thing. She doesn’t know what she is saying.

Me:        Maybe she is saying ‘hello’.

Stella:    That is too many noises for ‘hello’.  Let me ask her a question. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

Me:        You don’t have to yell.

Stella:    I DO IF I WANT HER TO UNDERSTAND ME! SHE DOESN’T SPEAK BULLDOG!

Me:        No yelling.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaaak! Waaak! Waak. Waak. Waak.

Stella:   It’s just getting worse. Poor little chicken brain.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Human, please tell your other bulldog to stop digging at our food. It is not for her.

Me:        Wow. That was pretty clear.

Stella:    She has been holding out on us.

Me:        If you have sway with Wiggles, tell her to leave the chicken feed alone.

Stella:    Yeah, she sure doesn’t want her big old bulldog face to meet the angry pointy-faced chickens. I think talking to chickens is a dangerous proposition, Lady Human. Can we trust them?

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaaaaaakkk!

Stella:    Typical.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Make Me Laugh – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. We are shy one voice in the pack. I miss Snoopey.

Me:        As do I. Please. Make me laugh.

Stella:    That’s not my job. I don’t take orders from you. I am a bulldog. What would Snoopey say if she heard you?

Me:        She would sit with a very dignified air and flat ignore me.

Stella:    Exactly. And what do I look like? A human funny person?

Me:        A comedienne?

Stella     Yes. No. Maybe. Have you seen Wiggles?

Me:        Yeah, a while ago.

Stella:    Have you seen Wiggles lately?

Me:        Okay, what’s going on?

Stella:    She stole a bag of trash and she is running around the house, carrying it in her mouth like it’s some kind of prize.

Me:        Uh-oh. Where is she now?

Stella:    Who knows? Who cares?

Me:        Let me get Wiggles outside to run off some energy.

Stella:    Happy hunting!

Me:        She’s out now. What were we talking about?

Stella:    You were ordering me to be funny for your own amusement. How rude!

Me:        I just thought we could use a laugh.

Stella:    Is that all we are good for? Laughs? Oh, and you’d better check on Wiggles again.

Me:        What now?

Stella:    She is digging up chicken feed by the chicken run. And look! The chickens are all lined up in a straight row, watching her. They look angry.

Me:        They look like chickens always do.

Stella:    Yep. Chickens with their angry pointy faces. I know what would make you laugh! Let the chickens out so they can chase Wiggles around. That would be hilarious!

Me:        Not for long. What about when Wiggles realizes that she is being chased by chickens and turns around?

Stella:    Wiggles? Realize? Chickens? Can you imagine that happening?

Me:        Yes. No. Maybe. Chickens chasing a bulldog. I would like to see that one time.

Stella:    Ah, there’s a smile. Not a laugh, but the next best thing. We’ll keep trying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Squawky Day – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges and I want earplugs.

Me:        Why? Because the pack barks so loudly?

Stella:    No. Barking is a lovely sound. I need earplugs to block out squawking. Chicken squawking.

Me:        Yeah, I noticed that today. I think they were mad because their breakfast was running late.

Stella:    And whose fault is that?

Me:        Mine. I took a little time to move the new 50-pound bag of chicken feed into place.

Stella:    50 pounds! That’s as heavy as I am. Cool.

Me:        I think you are easier to carry. You are more compact.

Stella:    Was that the big bag that you were dancing with?

Me:        Did it look like dancing? It felt like wrestling.

Stella:    Well, next time, do it sooner.

Me:        Oh, of course, Your Majesty. Pardon me. So sorry that your sensitive ears were inconvenienced.

Stella:    I pardon you.

Me:        You know, the next time they start squawking, you can go out and tell them to quiet down. They might listen to you.

Stella:    Chickens listen to a bulldog? Of course, they should. But would they? I doubt it. Have you seen how tiny their heads are? Their brains are just as small.

Me:        Small heads or not, chickens are very intelligent.

Stella:    Why?

Me:        They can play tiny pianos.

Stella:    With their scrawny feet or with their sharp, hard mouths?

Me:        With their beaks.

Stella:    Showoffs. That’ s easy if you have a pointy face.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Everybody Gag! – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde…English…Bulldogges.  AAAAAGGGGHHH! Awww, what’s that awful smell?

Snoopey:   It’s Lady Human. I smelled her as she passed by. AACK!

Me:        Why all the barking?

Tiger:     Stink! Stink! Stink!

Me:        You all are the last of God’s creatures to be complaining about stink.

Stella:    No, I think you hold that prize now, Lady Human. Gag. Cough. Spit. Ew, it won’t go away! You need to clear up that smell immediately.

Miss Sweetie:    Yes, please. PLEASE! Ugh, my nose is burning.

Doodlebug:        And you all thought MY breath smelled foul.

Wiggles:   Your mouth is a rose garden compared to this. And I don’t even like roses.

Snoopey:   Christmas is ruined! The stink killed it!

Me:        Why are you all barking? It’s like an eruption!

Stella:    Why? Are you kidding me? Take it away! Take the stink away! What is it? Will it end the world?

Me:        No, it just seems like it. I harvested the chickens’ eggs. One of them exploded.

Stella:    Was that the loud pop we heard?

Me:        Yes. Yuck.

Stella:    One rotten egg caused all this by itself?

Me:        Yeah. Thank the LORD that the eggs were double bagged.

Stella:    Not good enough!

Snoopey:   Christmas is ruined!

Me:        No, we will recover from this before Christmas. I promise. I’m disposing of the remains of the rotten egg now. Give it a few minutes.

Wiggles:   Minutes? Is that like 1…2…3?

Doodlebug:   1…2…3…nope. Still stinks.

Me:        Okay, the offending egg is outside.

Tiger:   Not good enough.

Snoopey:   Christmas is ruined! Nooooo!

Miss Sweetie:   Why is Christmas ruined, Aunt Snoopey?

Snoopey:   Because Christmas is supposed to smell good and now the whole world stinks.

Me:        The stink will dissipate soon. There was only one rotten egg and it has been disposed of in the outside trash.

Snoopey:   No! Then Christmas is ruined for the whole wide world.

Stella:    Yes, but we’re okay. So, yippee!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stop Clucking in Our Ears! You Sound Like a Chicken! – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, guard my ears from nonsense noises and that is hard living with a pack of bulldogs. But today it was not a bulldog assaulting my ears. It was far worse than that.

It was a cat. Moon the Cat, to be precise. She was making clucking noises in Lady Human’s ear and I heard it. Clucking noises! Who does that? She is a cat! Where was the meowing that we are so often subjected to? A cat should act like a cat. Clucking is for chickens and I know that the cat has not been hanging around with them.

Me:        It was really no big deal.

Stella:    How do you define “big deal”? Since when is a cat clucking like a chicken not a big deal? Is this yet another cat/chicken conspiracy? Are cats and chickens uniting against bulldogs? Are they now speaking a common language? Is this a prelude to war? NOOOOO!!

Me:        Wait. A war between bulldogs on one side and cats and chickens on the other?

Stella:    What else can it be? A cat was clucking, Lady Human! A cat! Clucking!

Me:        I don’t think it is a real problem. I did tell Moon to stop doing it in my ear.

Stella:    There is a plot afoot. Ignore it if you will, but one day, all of us may be clucking in cat-ese like a bunch of chickens.

Me:        Flock.

Stella:    I beg your pardon?

Me:        Granted.

Stella:    Hmmmph! Cats!

Me:        Hmmmph! Bulldogs!

Stella:    What?

Me:        Nothing.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

You’re a Human! Do Something! – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Me:        I caught Wiggles and Doodlebug trying to dig under the chicken house today. Water had been eroding a low spot on one side. I had placed two thick boards over the depression so that neither chickens nor dogs could work their way through. Today the boards had been moved and the dogs were paying more than casual interest in the depression.

Stella:    Why are you telling us this? It is so boring.

Me:        I think Wiggles and Doodlebug will try to dig under the chicken house to assault the chickens.

Stella:    Okay.

Me:        Not okay.

Stella:    The silly chickens will just have to run around like silly chickens, but they do that anyway so no harm, no foul.

Me:        Sorry. Harm and foul. The bulldogs won’t realize that they are too strong for the chickens. They mean to play, but the chickens are too delicate for their type of play. That’s why we built the chicken run and chicken house for them. The run has a hardware cloth floor to protect from burrowing animals, but the chicken house was a re-purposed kid’s fort and it has no sub-flooring.

Stella:    Boring!

Me:        You wanted to know.

Stella:    I didn’t really. I was just being polite. Aren’t you a human?

Me:        Yes. But when has that ever slowed a bulldog.

Stella:    You are a human. Do something! Fix the problem!

Me:        They have shifted every large rock I have placed out there.

Stella:    Use bigger rocks. Put more over the weak spot. Keep Wiggles and Doodlebug away from that place. YOU ARE A HUMAN! ACT LIKE ONE!

Me:        Being a human is tiring sometimes.

Stella:    So is being a bulldog. Why do you think we take so many naps?

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.