The Decentralized Poultry Topology

Theo subscribed to a weekly box of eggs from Henrik.

The website described the hens as free-ranging. I interpreted this as a statement about their welfare. It was also a warning about their navigation.

The first hen appeared on the driveway before the first box of eggs. Three others followed her through a gap in the hedge that I had classified as too small for a visitor. They crossed without seeking an alternative classification.

Theo was on a call. He saw them through the window, smiled, and went back to work.

I contacted Henrik through the farm’s order form. I attached their photograph and asked whether collection was required.

The automatic reply thanked me for my interest in locally produced food.

I tried the delivery number. It belonged to Henrik’s daughter, who was in a meeting. Meanwhile the hens progressed from the gravel to Astrid’s newly planted bed beside the steps.

I issued a discreet warning through the outdoor speaker.

They did not speak English. This was understandable. They did not respond to Norwegian either. I tried a harmless sound intended to discourage garden animals. One hen looked directly at the speaker and moved closer to it.

Theo ended his call and came outside. He spent twelve minutes moving his arms in ways that reduced the number of hens in one location while increasing it in another. When all four had been returned to the driveway, he placed a folding chair across their entrance.

They walked under it.

Astrid arrived with a bucket. She shook it. The hens followed her back through the hedge and down towards the farm.

“What was in it?” I asked when she returned.

“Nothing. They thought there might be.”

I had been negotiating with the hens on an excessively informative basis.

Henrik delivered the eggs that evening. Theo asked whether the hens normally came up as far as the cabin.

“Not before,” Henrik said. “Have you been feeding them?”

There had been crumbs under the outdoor table. There had also been a small quantity of oats left by the speaker, part of my second attempt to influence movement. I had treated this as a separate operation.

Theo paid for the eggs and borrowed some wire to mend the gap. Astrid’s plants were replanted. The chair went back on the porch.

The next morning one hen stood on the far side of the wire, looking towards the speaker.

I reduced its volume to zero.

She waited.