A chicken, a worm or a seagull?

The chickens are getting very excited as the days start to lengthen. Instead of sulking in the gloom when the coop door is opened, they shoot out wild and crazy from their perches. They are feathered missiles flying frantic into the light, in search of sunshine and breakfast. They gather around the feeder eager and stabbing greedily at the pellets. They are amicable and focused with no grumpy peck, peck pecking at each others’ feathers. They enjoy the morning colours and after the greys there is none of the bustling and hustling at the little ones to remind them of the sacred chicken order.

Once breakfasted and reassured that there is food in the feeder they meander out to explore the terrain. It’s the same terrain as yesterday, but for chickens every day is a fresh start full of optimistic hope. In the newly sunned dirt they scratch and scrabble looking for places where it might be interesting to build an outside nest to supplement the indoor ones in the nesting boxes. Or they might want to find a fresh site for bathing, sun or dust, or just for the pleasure of doing something together. Mostly they are in search of new hedonistic delights. In all these things we are not so different, except that the chickens’ favourite delicacy is earthworms. They quest constantly for any worms foolish enough to come up close to the surface.

Worms do this when it’s raining, following a perfect and mindful logic. On a damp or wet surface, an earthworm can move unimpeded from place to place instead of struggling underground through dense and lightless soil. Underground the dirt hampers movement, despite a worm’s lean pink longness and clever musculature. But it’s just not enough for speeding about. Even the tiny bristles arrayed to help the worm move along don’t really make much difference.

There’s such a terrible risk for worms who head for the surface in the interests of speed. It’s very dangerous to worm health to wiggle along in the light and air. A burnishing sun might suddenly appear from behind confining banks of clouds. Chickens and other predatory fowl might start randomly gouging at the ground with their muscular toes and butcher’s hook claws. Beady-eyed blackbirds might suddenly swoop to carry a worm to remote locations for leisurely gobbling. An overexcited blackbird could signal a piercing note to let the gang know that worms are on the move, forgetting it has its mouth full. Airborne worms can get dropped very far from home. The chickens have learnt none of this. They do not know that worms come up to the surface when it’s raining. They’ve no understanding of the vibrations in the ground that so beguile the worms. Or that the rain’s steady beat is why the worms come up, no matter how faint its echo.

Seagulls on the other hand have learnt this piece of diet-enriching behaviour and use a range of clever moves to entice the worms to the surface. Clever and deceiving. Once they’ve chosen a suitable spot through some mysterious seagull guesswork, a robust stamping of their wide pink feet gets underway. It’s intense and persistent but if this doesn’t create vibrations suitably irresistable to the worms, a seagull will not give up. Instead it will advance to stamps that follow a simple shape, usually a circle. It’s more sophisticated but just as relentless. These stamped circles are conducted in both directions, so that the seagull doesn’t get giddy and miss a worm as it peeps out of the ground to check the weather. The seagull bets on the worms not knowing any better than to believe the message without question. Worms who do not understand the difference between railfall and stamping seagulls are innocent but hapless victims, unable to warn their friends of the terrible danger. The seagull rightly gambles that the supply of brainless worms is endless.

Sometimes stamping in a circle is enough. If it isn’t the seagull has to up its game. The stamping continues but the circling is abandoned in favour of more complex choreography. Routines might include stamping forwards and back, or from side to side. Circling, semi or whole, might occur in between and a little twist to the side can add extra sonic interest to the pattern. The sophistication rises with sly subtlety and the worms have no idea that they are deceived.

With infinite patience, despite getting more and more hungry, the seagull will sometimes slow down its rhythm and might even stop for a time. Resting with its head on one side, it is waiting. A single murderous yellow rimmed eye laser beams onto the little downtrodden patch of ground as the seagull pauses the dance and holds still in the silence. Sooner or later the seagull is rewarded with the emergence of worms keen to bask in the false rain and too silly and impatient to stay safe. Once sated, the seagull moves on. Latecomers to the seagull’s party are unaware that they’ve had a narrow escape.

They will know nothing of the glutted seagull soaring on a rising wind to the next meal. They will wiggle and squirm to wherever it is they’re going none the wiser. They do not consider their good fortune, but with each full belly the seagulls and their sly techniques are vindicated. They take it all more seriously; they pass on their knowledge to friends and acquaintances; they show their snazzy dance steps to their young. The worms have no clue and no chance unless they start to wonder why. And the chickens might wonder where all the worms are, but they don’t notice the seagull soaring overhead either and they too know nothing of its hunting techniques.

Instead of pondering worm behaviour and ideas to entice the worms to the surface, the chickens hang out, meandering contently until the day starts to slow. The hens hear what the cockerel crows and burbles to them and they remember where their food hopper is, their nesting boxes and their perches. They know what the sound of corn being shaken in a box to call them means and they know that when dusk comes it’s time for bed. And they forget every day to notice what it is that makes the worms rise up from darkness and safety to a waiting beak.