Last night the chickens were chasing each other around, smacking into each other and generally making a racket. They were playing a bit more roughly than I liked, so I tried singing them a song, very softly, just to see what would happen. I wasn’t through the first line of “Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore” before they’d all lined up silently, beady black eyes watching me closely. No one could ask for a more attentive audience. It was almost unnerving. As I kept singing, they settled down in the corner of the box beneath me, groomed their new little feathers, and dozed contentedly.
On I went through “The Cruel Mother”, “Jack O’Diamonds”, and “Traveller’s Prayer”. They cozied up to the wall of the box and snoozed profoundly. When I was done, they blinked a moment, picked themselves up, and started wandering around dazedly.
I haven’t been able to replicate that experience, but the Delaware does reliably come over and settle down when I start singing.