I just found this post I never published from 2015. It made me miss my chickens. A LOT. I don’t miss the 5:00 a.m. crowing. I don’t miss late night bumblefoot operations. I don’t miss giant chicken snakes (or small chicken snakes for that matter). I don’t miss chicken poop. I don’t miss panic attacks whenever I saw a stray dog, soaring hawk or prowling bobcat. I don’t miss nasty chicken waterers. I don’t miss unexpected funerals. Raccoon attacks. Rooster fights.
I have one little girl. Down the road there are four. And Sunday they all came over to play, I sent them to check the eggs and let the chickens out for their evening stroll. Almost immediately there were shrieks of terror and thundering footsteps. I knew before I heard a word the first snake…
Females have a remarkable ability. They can tote about an itsy-bitsy egg until it is fertilized, let another small human develop a complete, tiny body inside them with an extremely accommodating belly then extract the little creature via painful pushes and sometimes incisions. A truly amazing process. I have a good friend who has done…
The Wicked Chicken 