The rain, rain, rain, came down, down down...

Autumn has come, summer has gone;

the wind howls and the rain pours.

Still the hens sit outside.

It's dark, it's gloomy,

the ground has turned to mud.

Still the hens sit outside.

Bedraggled and wet,

feathers ruffled in every direction.

Still the hens sit outside.

We watch from a distance,

from the warmth of the house.

And still the hens sit outside.

Anyone else wonder at animals that can spend the day in a torrential downpour and act as if nothing has happened?