Adventures with chickens...
Flickr user Steven-L-Johnson
I really don’t like chickens that much and have avoided raising them for all these years, partly because I got caught trying to steal eggs as a (hungry, young) boy and got fooled by the glass egg, too. It left a bad taste in my mouth, but I moved on with my life and eventually raised some turkeys, ducks, pheasants and, of course, a rabbit or two.
My neighbor across the tracks, whose name rhymes roughly with hen, well … he was sitting there with Leroy and Leroy asked if there were any (wild) turkeys around this area. Just then one of my wandering turkeys, the gimpy one, almost full grown and fond of crossing over to the ‘other side of the tracks’ (don’t ask me why); to the neighbors and harassing their dogs, limped around the corner, in full view. “Well, yes, and there is one right now!” said Ben with a twinkle in his eye. Now we also had a dog and Ben had chickens and the chickens got killed by a dog and I was telling him that my dog didn’t kill chickens and he said, “then what is that pin feather hanging off the corner of your dog’s mouth?” to which I had no defense, but still thought, silently, that my dog was not guilty, but in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I could go on, but the real point I want to get at is that chickens like to sit in trucks as the beloved pets of crane truck operators in ‘the City Different’ area, because this old guy, not Roger Lamoreux of crane fame in these parts, that I hired to lift vigas for my brother in law, Andrew Lovato (whose wife kept doves flying around the house); had one he travelled everywhere with, sitting in the passenger seat and I got the definite impression that they were friends for life. So consult your neighbors to find out if they want any chicken stories to tell before you go out and get one. ….and don’t steal eggs!