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Tuesday, January 13, 2009

On Chickens

You know, I kind of thought it was a great idea to get chickens. I had them as pets growing up (thanks to a third-grade hatching program) and I loved them. What's not to love about a pet that also produces something edible?

I'm not thinking it's so great anymore. The problems are these:

1) Chickens, while not birds capable of flight, are birds capable of half-flight. This half-flight is just enough to allow them to clear my fence. It's awesome to constantly be shooing your chickens back in to your yard.

2) I clearly did not remember how large chicken . . . erm . . . waste . . . is. Seriously, my whole backyard is like a minefield of nastiness.

3) My chickens scare me. Man, those things are vile. If I even stand at my window, they look at me. I'm not paranoid, but I'm not kidding, those chickens are looking at me. Like weird. Like they are planning an Animal Farm-esque takeover of the house. And it won't be the pigs in charge this time around. It will be the chickens.

4) My chickens peck me when I go outside. They meander over to where I am, all casual like, and then they strike. I wear my pointiest shoes to collect eggs now. Because two can play at that game.

5) My chickens were named by my children and I hate their names. Princess? Superman? (And yes, they are both female) How generic! I wanted to name them after my great-aunts, Afton and Isabelle, but nobody ever listens to me anymore.

Does anyone else think it might be time for chicken dinner?

14 comments:

Kenna said...

I could have just died from laughing...

At least see if you can fetch a good price for them from the local KFC or something.

Then again, you might get more satisfaction out of eating them yourself. They probably deserve it.

jennie w. said...

Yes, chicken poop is alarming. And it's not like you can train them to poop in one section of the backyard. My chickens were very fond of pecking at jewelry and eyeballs. The kids really liked that.

My kids named ours Blackberry, Sweetpea, and Spike.

wendy said...

Do your chickens have "exceptionally Long Tallons??? "
(ala Napoleon Dynamite)

Heather of the EO said...

I'm creeped out by the chicken creepiness. I was chased once. Not fun.

Melissa said...

Chicken dinner with all the fixins! And they ARE looking at you! Chickens are scarey, scarey things. Seriously, give them to the Colonel and just buy perfectly fine eggs in the carton at the store. End this nightmare before they gang up on you and take over your life! ;)

Carol said...

We had chickens when I was a kid. I took a chicken for show and tell when my class mates took kittens, puppies and even rodents. I learned that chickens aren't socially acceptable and other kids are appalled by chicken poop stink.

Ever since I survived the shame and cold shoulder of my class mates chickens have only been good for dinner.

The Three 22nds said...

we hatched a chick in a pressure cooker. But he turned into a rooster. And he got a little nasty. he liked dust baths.

This Place is a Disaster! said...

I was thinking about getting chickens thinking they would just be around and I could get eggs out of the situation (low Maintenance). Then I read all about how they have to have immunizations and all that stuff and thought - why then I would just get a dog if I wanted hassle!

Claire said...

I've got a really good recipe for a chicken bake...

Chickens are spawn of the devil. They read your thoughts and find out what your biggest fear is. Then they stare at your all sinister like with their evil beady eyes and puff up their chests (which are only good for stuffing with garlic and herbs) and threaten to claw your eyes out. Cos they've discerned that THAT is your biggest fear.

I know - we used to visit friends that had chickens. And 'cybil' was my worst nightmare. Thankfully, she met a sticky end. Something to do with a fox and an open gate... hehehe

Sue said...

Heidi... You aren't paranoid. They really ARE planning an Animal Farm-esque takeover. DUN DUN DUN. Watch yourself.

Jessica said...

I assume you and Rhett won't be, um, ending of the chicken's lives yourselves. But if you were so inclined, don't do it.

We had chickens when I was younger and my dad was a farm kid, so he knew how to kill them. They don't lay down and die when you behead them. (Yet more evidence that they are, in fact, devil spawn.) Instead they run around for a while until their nerves die or something, then they finally lay down and the screaming can stop. We had an above-ground pool in our backyard, which was where our chickens met their demise. There was a line of blood about chicken neck-high all around the pool. I can still see it fifteen years later.

I was so traumatized after seeing that that I refused to eat the chicken. My mom, the sadist, fed me chicken noodle soup for dinner instead. I didn't catch the irony for years. I choose not to think about the implications that has for my intelligence.

Anonymous said...

I can't believe that your family owns chickens. You do live in the south so I don't expect that you would need a recipe from the Colonel to know what to do with them.

Justin

Edith said...

Oh am I so releived to stumble across your blog and read this post. My husband is DYING to get chickens and I am fast running out of reasons why he should be denied this bucolic pleasure. One one level, I am totally up for some chicken keeping but on lots of other levels I don't think it's a good idea for us. At least not yet. I'm going to keep the chicken poop reminder up my sleeve (not literally you appreciate). He will not be keen on that idea! That piece of info will stand me in good stead (together with the reminder I saw a fox in the garden a while ago - surely a hungry fox and a coop full of chickens, no matter how securely fastened, is just a recipe for carnage...). Thank you O wise one!

E

Motherboard said...

Chicken dinner?

Depends on who is doing the prep work. You or the Colonel??