My mother was the catalyst. She and my husband have been rhapsodizing about fresh eggs and chicken poo (as fertilizer) for years, and finally it all just became too much. She went to the farm store one day, and came back with three chickens. My husband seethed with envy. Why did SHE get chickens, and not him? It’s not fair!! Not to be outdone, he sneaked out and got four more. My chickenless world had come to an end.
We kept the chicks in a huge storage bin (with the lid modified to cut out the middle and attach chicken wire), until they were big enough to be outside. My criteria for “big enough” was noise and odor-related—once they were too loud and smelled too much, I decided they were old enough to be outside.
The coop was built, which is a story for another day. Then, our friends got into the act—after all, if you’re going to have to build a coop, why not build it bigger, for MORE chickens?
We now have a dozen chickens. A dozen clucking, pecking, pooing chickens.
We soon discovered that one of the “shes” was a “he”. Thanks, Farm Store. His name is Harry.
Harry is a very confused rooster. He can’t tell time, and he has the weirdest crow ever. We hear “Rrr R Rrrrr….Rrr R Rrrrr” at all hours of the day and night. It’s a good thing we don’t have any near neighbors, or Harry would be someone’s dinner.
And if that’s not bad enough, recently, Harry has begun some disturbing behavior. He’s doing…things…to the hens. R-rated things. It’s shocking. It’s disgusting. It’s…..chicken porn.
The very worst thing about chickens, the thing that no one will tell you, is this: chickens are a gateway drug to other livestock. It’s true. As marijuana is to other drugs, so chickens are to other livestock. If not for the chickens, we would never have considered alpacas. If not for those blasted chickens, I wouldn’t be hearing words like, “goats”, and “cows” being bantered about IN MY HOME.
Cute, fluffy little chicks should come with a warning label. It should be government-mandated. Hey, Congress, instead of wasting millions of dollars of grant money for the study of the life cycle of the red-toed dung beetle, why don’t you do something about the unfettered, rampant sale of cute little chicks?
Because I am a civic-minded person, I’m going to do my part and provide a public service announcement regarding the dangers of chickens.
“This is your life before the scourge of chickens:
This is your life AFTER the scourge of chickens:
Any questions???”
