One of the joys of my life has been Elaine and I spending time with our nearly 14-month-old grandson Sam. Recently, I decided to teach Sam how to feed bread to our three mature hens: Ruby, Spotty, and Tallulah.
So Sam and I sat down on the front stoop of our house and gave the "lookie, lookie," call which is the cue for the hens to come running. I gave Sam a piece of bread and announced.
"Sam, feed the chickens!"
Sam's response was to eat the bread.
"No, Sam, feed the chickens," I said as I handed him another piece of bread.
Sam again ate the bread.
Meanwhile, the chicken trio, beside themselves with bread lust, were crowded around Sam.
"Feed the chickens, Sam," I instructed again.
This time, Sam dropped the bread on the stoop and he and Tallulah both tried to grab a piece...which both of them accomplished. This seemed to make Ruby and Spotty more agitated as they had consumed nothing.
"Sam, feed the chickens!" I tried one last time.
This time, Ruby grabbed the bread from Sam's hand, and she and Spotty took off with the latter trying to steal the bread from Ruby while Tallulah was off eating her chunk.
I don't think Sam has mastered the whole feeding the chickens thing.