petunia's place

as defined by some rude peckers

The ladies know their place.

They like their place.

At the end of the day, Petunia goes inside last.

As she attempts to find her spot on the the pearches, the others squank, bristle and peck.

She finds her place timidly after being both pecked and squanked at.

The ladies demand their order and are not against the use of violence to maintain it.

After a bit more noise and a little more violence, they cuddle up and settle in for the cold winter night.

In the morning when I open the door, four chickens will power out in order.

Then?

Once the coast is clear, Petunia will make her way down the ramp for another day of cleaning up the scraps.

The ladies make sure she gets enough to eat.

Only once they have had their fill.

It’s good that we’re not like chickens.