We had this idea that we'd raise chickens last Spring. We have an old, defunct wooden sailboat in the front yard with a gang plank coming out the side of it, and of course, I thought, Let's put the chickens in the boat! A boat house for a hen house! Then every morning, I open up the gang plank, and chickens walk down it, all in a row.
My own little Fellini movie. Every morning.
This seemed like a great way to start the day. Especially if I could talk a couple of them into wearing little top hats or riding a little chicken-sized unicycle or something. Or just standing perfectly still on one foot, once every hour or whenever a frat boy rode by on his Cannondale.
The idea was squashed by someone else's practicality. There are health hazards, apparently, with the by-products of live chickens in a boat, and 'who's going to clean up the mess every week?' and 'they need to have a practical hen house that's accessible..'
No, they need their own boat.
Last time I was in Key West there were chickens everywhere... at the airport, walking around the table and pecking the dust while I was eating at that groovy restaurant.. hanging out on the corners with fancy blue tufts and such. These were exotic chickens from all over the Caribbean and beyond. Walking paintings, walking metaphor, kinetic poetry... by products...
But what of Chickens and Tropical Storms? What would be the best way for a forward-thinking chicken to ride out these watery Smitings?
Think on it. They'd have fared much better these past years, what with the storms and all the flooding if they'd had their own boats. And then, when the calm returned, they could open up the little gang planks and stroll back to the beach. And every hour or so, stand perfectly still on one foot.
Yes.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
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You'll be really sorry and disillusioned and your romantic notions of saving chickens will fly out the porthole when that boat becomes overrun with mites. As if the wasps aren't bad enough.
ReplyDeleteAn Arc of chickens and the ramifications thereof. Wet chickens smoking wet cigarets on a miserable Indiana covered ocean (Or would it be better to say, "A miserable ocean covered Indiana"? Either way; no boat, no boots, one leg or two. The cock crows three times, If your lucky, then flops down like a drunken sailer on the good ship Venus.
ReplyDeleteBetter yet, set the plank on the side of your cooking pot, say AAArrrgh and make the poultry pirates walk it.
Unless you just wanted eggs, if so, forget I said anything.
Chessley