One evening as I started my chores, I suddenly heard a persistent, high-pitched “SQUEAK…SQUEAK.” Was it a mouse?
I quickly peered in the direction of the sound. What do you think I saw? A hen had a small mouse, about the thickness of my index finger, in its beak!
The hen carried the mouse around, stopped, and gave the squeaking mouse a couple hard pecks. I then thought the hen would drop the dead mouse and go on. Instead, the hen stuffed the mouse into its beak, stretched out its neck, blinked a few times, and swallowed its uncomfortably large “morsel.”
“G-A-W-K, G-A-W-K,” the hen clucked around with a bewildered look in its eyes. Then it puffed itself up and went on its way.
How do you think the gizzard could handle such a mousey meal?
