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After a bit, my eyelids got heavy. I curled into a ball on my side.
Miss Sylvia Rivera clucked and moved to sit next to me on the ground. That said so much. The hens slept in the air. It was their way of keeping safe from predators. So if she was beside me, that meant she was guarding me.
I started to feel bad. I didn’t want her worried about me, and I told myself I’d get up.
I needed to check on Brett.
My phone was back in my place, charging.
Five more minutes, then I’d go.
The hens were clucking their alarmed sound.
I jerked upright, which sent Miss Sylvia Rivera jumping away from me, flapping her wings. But I settled, my pulse calming a little. The solar light had fallen over, and my blanket covered it up, so there was no light in the coop.
Instead, I could see headlights flashing outside through one of their netted windows.
It was Brett!
Or Vicky and Howard were getting a ride back wherever they’d gone. I didn’t know the time or how long I’d stayed in the coop. I hadn’t brought my phone with me because I hadn’t meant to stay long, just a little. Get some comfort. Spent some quality time. A part of me wanted to stay out here, or bring Miss Sylvia Rivera with me inside, but I couldn’t.
Grabbing my blanket and the light, I headed for the door. Or I tried to.
Miss Sylvia Rivera stayed at my feet, slowing every step because I didn’t want to step on her. When I got to the door, she clucked louder and louder. The others joined in, feeling whatever she was feeling.
She was alarmed or she wanted me to stay.
I appreciated her support, but I needed to deal with the real world. Brett was probably losing his mind. I needed to check on him, let him know I’d fallen asleep.
I reached for the door, but Marsha P. Johnson had moved to the roost right above my head, and she started flapping her wings.
What is going on?
I moved Miss Sylvia Rivera aside.
She ran right back, stopping me.
I did it again.
We repeated this cycle until I was sure Vicky and Howard wouldn’t be able to fall asleep and Howard would be coming out to make sure the chickens were okay. Were they okay? Was there a predator outside? I bit back a slight laugh at myself because this was probably the issue. Why was that just now occurring to me? A coyote? Or a snake?
Either way, I needed to find it and take care of it.
I scooped up Miss Sylvia Rivera and put her on her rung of the sleeping roost. Marsha P. Johnson soon joined her, and then I dashed for the door, getting out before Miss Sylvia Rivera could come with me.
I heard her wings moving, but got the door closed in time. I made sure they were all inside, and grabbed for a flashlight, the one to shine around if we really needed to see what was going on. I swept it around the coop, expecting to see grass rustling as whatever had them alarmed scampered away.
Nothing moved. There were no threats from outside the coop.
The headlights…
I’d assumed those were Vicky and Howard, but maybe not.
Brett would’ve been yelling for me, and he would’ve come down here to find me. He knew me.
An alien feeling settled over me.
The hens were still in a tizzy.
