(I started this post about two weeks ago. Sorry things have been so busy)
Yes, [name withheld], eat your heart out—nine of 'em, and truly captive, though I let them run around in the back yard sometimes. They all think I'm their master, and beg for favors, even sexual ones, no lie, but all I ever do is feed them garbage and eat their children.
And to think that this is usually a G-rated blog. Scandal, scandal, scandal.
To top it off, all nine of them are Democrats! When I go out to check on them in the morning, they all start chanting "Barak! Barak!" Actually, it's more like "bar-rak, bar-rak."
No doubt you realize I'm talking about our nine pet laying hens, all very tame. Pets that pay their way, I might add, unlike most pets. I learned last weekend that they love to eat those Asian Shield Beetles (stink bugs) that are invading Delaware this fall.
For my two readers with a perverse turn of mind, here are a couple pictures of a hen, in the first one she is assuming the posture, begging for sexual favors from any rooster that chances by. It's a little hard to tell, but she's leaning forward, has her tail up, and she's fidgeting from one leg to the other in anticipation.
A swift kick on the behind meets her needs just fine, and she ruffles her feathers in an obvious expression of chicken-level thrill. This is also hard to see, but she is trembling all over and has ruffled out her feathers. It doesn't last long, so it's hard to photograph.
Since humans don't generally show up without treats, the ladies have decided that any human is a rooster, and they'll be happy to ask for attention from anyone. (I'll resist the temptation to add "Even you, [name]," but you know who you are.) Anyway, stop by some time, and I'll be glad to let you see. If we have any spare eggs, we'll give you a free dozen for your trouble. The ladies produce superior eggs; large, and several double-yolk beauties a week. We cracked one of our hen's and a store-bought egg into the same pan, and the difference is conspicuous: Much darker yolk and much firmer white on the home-grown one. Perfect for Eggs Benedict, and Val makes a mean hollandaise sauce. Life is good.
Mentioning the unlikelihood of spare eggs brings me to the next topic—the number of people in our household. Val's grandparents have moved in, at least a fair amount of the time (when they're not gallivanting around up at the lake or visiting any of their doctors' offices). And we are hosting a foreign exchange student, a nice young lady from Mexico, who attends Joshua's school, whose first host family wasn't working out. She has a nice little sleeping area in the loft above the girls' bedroom. I just finished remodeling their closet, so now she has room to hang her clothes, too. Anyway, that makes eight, and one breakfast can pretty well demolish a day-and-a-half's egg production.
A swift kick on the behind meets her needs just fine, and she ruffles her feathers in an obvious expression of chicken-level thrill. This is also hard to see, but she is trembling all over and has ruffled out her feathers. It doesn't last long, so it's hard to photograph.
Since humans don't generally show up without treats, the ladies have decided that any human is a rooster, and they'll be happy to ask for attention from anyone. (I'll resist the temptation to add "Even you, [name]," but you know who you are.) Anyway, stop by some time, and I'll be glad to let you see. If we have any spare eggs, we'll give you a free dozen for your trouble. The ladies produce superior eggs; large, and several double-yolk beauties a week. We cracked one of our hen's and a store-bought egg into the same pan, and the difference is conspicuous: Much darker yolk and much firmer white on the home-grown one. Perfect for Eggs Benedict, and Val makes a mean hollandaise sauce. Life is good.
Mentioning the unlikelihood of spare eggs brings me to the next topic—the number of people in our household. Val's grandparents have moved in, at least a fair amount of the time (when they're not gallivanting around up at the lake or visiting any of their doctors' offices). And we are hosting a foreign exchange student, a nice young lady from Mexico, who attends Joshua's school, whose first host family wasn't working out. She has a nice little sleeping area in the loft above the girls' bedroom. I just finished remodeling their closet, so now she has room to hang her clothes, too. Anyway, that makes eight, and one breakfast can pretty well demolish a day-and-a-half's egg production.
4 comments:
Dear Rogers:
I find it difficult to think that a boner fide BMW rider went on four three or four paragraphs -- in an alleged biker blog -- on the appropriate way to interpret the sexual acceptance of a pet chicken.
Yet I can assure you that others will not be so kind... In fact, some are likely to claim they suspected as much all along. I generally buy eggs from an Amish farm and I too conducted the side-by-side frying egg test. There is an obvious aspect of freshness from to an egg laid recently, as opposed to an egg last laid on a trip to Acapulco. But this is not only true of eggs.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Dear Rogers:
The "unnamed" among us who truly appreciates your fowl writing about cooking up chicken abortions for the entire family is not alone. It was a good story that had me smiling up until I read the comment by Jack Riepe, who shall remain nameless.
i remembered 8 and 1/2 women by greenaway. obviously, that has nothing to do with democrats. neither with masters.
I have a blue egg layer and a green egg layer I think they are the coolest eggs around! my girls are getting cold!
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