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The Lord knows what he is doing.
Oh, isn't that lovely. I don't know what the chooks are interested in. The chickens, the hens, and the little baby chickens-it's hard to say, it's nothing really angry. There's a little white chicken, you can hardly see him. Is he feeding the chickens? I'd say so. Yes, thats it, he must be breeding something. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. That thing he's got underneath him. A dozen small chickens, two fat hens and a couple of black chickens. It is in his backyard. His name is Henry. He's got chickens, hens, himself. He's feeding the chickens. Oh,is he. Oh. He's hungry. What's that on the floor? He just lives on the chickens for food. That bloke, very quiet to people walking past. Well,I think I would be too. Oh well, good on him. I wouldn't have a clue. There are a few boys there and he would be teaching them what to give the poultry.
The white chicken's name is Creamy or Whitey. The other one that looks like a boy is called Billy Boy and that little one is John.
The chickens, they're the same, just like any chicken. If you have had chickens you would know what they are like. They're quite good. They look as though they have close relations, they weren't all born at the same time.
Well, I don't know him, he'd have to, the little fellows, that little one you can't keep them, you have got to kill them, otherwise you don't get anything.
You would have to get someone to look after them, all animals need a lot of water. The other one will get together, the ones down the bottom, they would all stay together and look after themselves.
He is just taking the chickens along, taking them for a walk.
They haven't got a name. Jack. I don't care. I don't know what he's got in his hands. That lady, in her hands, really the little chickens all get to know the look of an axe, something to cut their throats.
Well, I'm not going that way, they're too small to cut their throats, the little ones.
"What do you think you're doing in my yard." They would be frightened of people. I don't believe they would be. They know people cut their heads off and they are hoping that they'll pick the right mother and father instead of just running around where they will cut their heads off.
Oh well, maybe the adults of the group would have to gather together. It's up to us to work this one out. You cant just let this one go. Those juniors weren't all born on the same day, a big difference in all their sizes. We can work it out. We can help it out. We don't want people to feel cruel because they have a family. They have to ask God to help solve the problem. That is completely in his hands. We have all done our best.
This story was created by Monica, Brenda, Joseph, Valerie and Roma in the Carinya Dementia Unit on December, 2012.
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