Oil on wood – 8,54 x 17,08 inch – Unique work

Sad news for Sainte Cécile on this Saturday morning in February. The fox has made a little visit. It only took one omission. The hatch has remained open just one night and boom! They all died. What a mighty but starving animal. The farm decides to sort things out. A trap is laid with a bait, the half-shredded remains of a feathered victim. One day, then two, then three, then a week, then two and still nothing. The beautiful red fur is cunning. It never returned back to its crime scene.The henhouse is desperately empty, the trap dismantled. Grieving locals make a decision. The next day, two blacks and a white “naked neck” enter the paved courtyard. The hens are so excited, but also probably scared. They need to get its bearings. Not so easy to feel at ease in a new place. Their playground got smaller but secured. No way to offer up the poor creatures as sacrificial lambs. It’s not going to happen, not again. Luckily enough, they are submissive and at nightfall, they go, of their own free will, in their home and the hatch is conscientiously closed every night. All is “for the best” in the “best of all possible worlds”.

One day, at noon, a little red hen and a voluptuous « Aquitaine » join the trio. No need to introduce any of them. No open hostility yet but no great love either. The elders are digging thier heels in. The new ones had better watch out … and not too close, would be great! For their own sake, any way. The first day ends up as follow: two separate groups without visible animosity. It’s about time to close the trap. The two black hens and the white one head easily home waddling and shouting loudly. The beautiful plump grey hen is crouched in a corner. As for the little red hen, she managed to escape and fled between the legs of her owner at full speed straight in the garden, determined to keep her freedom. Two humans running after the poor thing ? So what, the hen is quick and clever. She really begins to enjoy this little game. But, bad luck, her owners are pugnacious. And what’s the bottom line ? Judging by the sour look on the debauched hen face the next morning at the opening of the trap …