Chicken

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Vincent P. Gillis

About a month ago, I was sitting on my back porch at about 4AM indulging in my remaining intellectual activity - a Sudoku puzzle - when I noticed something that didn't seem to belong. A chicken was strutting across my back yard clucking quite loudly. It disappeared under a Philbert tree and keep up the racket for about another half hour. Strange as it may seem, living on a small farm and all, I know nothing about chickens. I assumed it had wandered over from a neighboring farm and would soon return home. Not.

When the sun came up, the chicken was still around, scratching its way up and down one of my vegetable gardens. I investigated, but clearly she would have none of that; the clucking got louder and louder the closer I approached. I had an angry chicken on my small farm.

Later that morning I called around and none of the neighboring farms were missing any chickens. I asked if anyone wanted it and the reply was universal: "Sure, just catch it and bring it over." To which my reply was, "If you want it, come and get it." I am fairly confident of at least 2 things: I will never be asked to chair the department of theoretical physics at Princeton and I have only a slightly better chance of catching a chicken; especially an angry chicken. So I did what I do best. I tried to ignore it. Sooner or later, I thought, it will either go away or get eaten by coyotes.

A few days later, I ran into a chicken-owning neighbor at the grocery store, and we had a discussion about chickens. The way I described it, she said, indicated it was a Banty chicken, a tough little breed that is coyote-aware and will probably roost in one of my filbert trees when the coyotes move from one area to another during the winter. (I didn't even know chickens could fly). As to caring for it, There wasn't really much to be done. She'll eat bugs and the overage from my sunflower feeders and drink water when she finds it. I was advised to keep an eye out and find where she nests. The eggs, though somewhat small, are quite tasty and, organic eggs being expensive at the store, she would provide a cheap source of protein. The only problem with that is that she hasn't established a regular nesting place. For a while she was laying in the barn, but quit after a week or so, and now I find them here and there - when I look. Aside from remaining a nasty little bitch, all seemed to go well for a while. Then she disappeared and I felt somewhat relieved about no longer having to worry about a chicken on my small farm.

Four days ago, while digging up some potatoes, I looked and there she was, at he bottom of the filbert tree, kinda stretched out and motionless. Naturally, I assumed that's one of the ways chickens croak, so I slowly approached, reached out to touch her to make sure she was dead, and she about took my finger off and started screaming, even after I hastily left the scene and retreated to the back porch. "Fuck it" I thought, "she can take her time dying and then I'll fling her corpse into the back swamp and be done with it."

At last night's street fair, I ran into another chicken lady who inquired about "my" chicken. I described what was happening, and she said "my" chicken was probably nesting and laying on a pile of eggs. ???? I have no roosters, and it's my understanding that unfertilized eggs do not little chickies produce. "Well," said the chicken lady, "chickens are not the rocket scientists of birds, they've been known to try to hatch infertile eggs before. Besides, she might have slipped away and had a tryst with a neighbor's rooster." Slut.

This morning, she "flew the coop" screaming and strutting back and forth pecking at the ground for bugs and drinking water out of a bird bath. While she was thus engaged, I slipped around one of my out buildings to take a back door view of her nest and, sure enough, there were 9 eggs on the ground. The little bitch came back, and settled on her eggs after making sure I knew I wasn't welcome.

Yet another chicken lady from across the pond said the next time the little bitch takes a food and water break, I ought to move in, pick up all the eggs and toss them as they were probably no longer good for eating, and if I don't take them away, she may continue laying on them until they rot and stink the place up. Or until they hatch and become little chicken snacks for my cat.

I had no idea that chickens were so fucking dumb.