The trouble with the church

This evening while we were getting ready for supper and welcoming Vern home, we looked outside to see a couple of the hens poised, like they were either ready for a fight or finishing one up. One of the hens was a White Rock, the other was a golden-colored Buff Orpington. It was a tense moment and they were maintaining the pecking order.

Then one of the children said, "Momma, the chickens are fighting...or they were... they're done now... they were different denominations."