Singing black hen
I know all my tens of thousands of readers (oh, all right - I'm lying - I mean ten) all come here to read about polemics, politics, world affairs and controversial current events and often just find fowl language.
Two months ago we bought a dozen pullets (female chicks) from the local farm supply store. Pullets cost two bucks a pop whereas unsexed chicks (what is known as a "straight run" in the fowl industry) only cost a buck a pop but you might end up with roosters who don't lay eggs, behead their babies and rape all the hens they can lay their vicious terrorist claws on.
"Straight runs" are not a bad investment when you consider that those nasty antibiotic-fed, hormone-ridden things sold in supermarkets cost at least $5 a corpse and the recently demised cockerels, the Three Stooges, were fresh, flavorsome and very tender served with baked potatoes, runner beans, gravy and a nice Oregon Pinot Grigio.
But, if you want workers who produce eggs, then you don't want cockerels; you want hens - so you pay the extra buck to have them sexed. The farm supply store guarantees that their "pullets" are 90% female. Well, two of our pullets turned out to be cockerels and have now taken the place of the Three Stooges on death row. We have called them Dumb and Dumber. Hopefully they will be as tasty as the Three Stooges a month or so from now.
Today we told the farm supply store that two out of twelve of their supposed "female chicks" were useless males - okay - semi-useless. They decided to give us another pullet to make up for the discrepancy. Andy came back from the farm store with a pullet in a cardboard box - a little black pullet crossed between a Plymouth Rock and a Rhode Island Red.
I put the little black hen in the rabbit cage that I keep in my office for when I bring our two chihuahuas to work. (They are monsters that were rescued from fates worse than death - but that's a whole nother story. I never liked little dogs till I got them and I still don't - except these are special. Don't argue - you KNOW they are. I said so!)
So what does this damned little hen start doing? Singing. That's what! There I am sitting at my desk paying bills when I hear this trilling and warbling like Maria Callas on LSD. I've got two canaries rescued from a homeless "bag lady" (and that's a whole nother story too) who sing better than Caruso when they try but mostly end up imitating the cell-phone but this little hen started singing like a diva at La Scala.
We brought her home and put her in the chicken-run with the other pullets who immediately attacked her like Velociraptors on crack cocaine. Yes, they are racists and don't like black hens - believe me! Would I lie to you? So Maria Callas ended up in the spare canary cage by herself in the guest bedroom.
Then the oddest thing happened. At first she got her tits in a tangle everytime I touched her but by now she was getting used to being handled and, every time I tickled her titties - er rubbed her breast - she purred. Yes - purred! Okay it was more like a little trill than a purr - you know like the Tribbles in Star Trek - only cuter.
If ever you've raised quail, you know that they trill and sing. Have I got a cross between a quail and a chicken? She's very small for her age and very pretty so I wouldn't be surprised.
Of course, being a Republican capitalist pig, I already have big plans for Maria Callas. I can just see her name in lights down at the WalMart parking lot in the local town. I'll bill her as "Maria Callas the Singing Chicken of Southern Oregon" and make millions! I'm just hoping she can sing Puccini arias and Bach cantatas without having to get drunk first. Maybe she can imitate Engelbert Humperdink in the shower like me.
This is ridiculous. I mean I've heard tales of singing chickens before but I've never met one in person. I'm wondering if Peace Moonbeam and Scooter have done some horrible commie pothead juju on me to make me vegetarian. Next thing I'll be singing "Kumbaya" in duet with Maria Callas and eating tofu and bean sprouts and kissing Cindy Sheehan on the lips. Oh the horror! I'd rather kiss a chicken's asshole - at least they lay eggs.
Two months ago we bought a dozen pullets (female chicks) from the local farm supply store. Pullets cost two bucks a pop whereas unsexed chicks (what is known as a "straight run" in the fowl industry) only cost a buck a pop but you might end up with roosters who don't lay eggs, behead their babies and rape all the hens they can lay their vicious terrorist claws on.
"Straight runs" are not a bad investment when you consider that those nasty antibiotic-fed, hormone-ridden things sold in supermarkets cost at least $5 a corpse and the recently demised cockerels, the Three Stooges, were fresh, flavorsome and very tender served with baked potatoes, runner beans, gravy and a nice Oregon Pinot Grigio.
But, if you want workers who produce eggs, then you don't want cockerels; you want hens - so you pay the extra buck to have them sexed. The farm supply store guarantees that their "pullets" are 90% female. Well, two of our pullets turned out to be cockerels and have now taken the place of the Three Stooges on death row. We have called them Dumb and Dumber. Hopefully they will be as tasty as the Three Stooges a month or so from now.
Today we told the farm supply store that two out of twelve of their supposed "female chicks" were useless males - okay - semi-useless. They decided to give us another pullet to make up for the discrepancy. Andy came back from the farm store with a pullet in a cardboard box - a little black pullet crossed between a Plymouth Rock and a Rhode Island Red.
I put the little black hen in the rabbit cage that I keep in my office for when I bring our two chihuahuas to work. (They are monsters that were rescued from fates worse than death - but that's a whole nother story. I never liked little dogs till I got them and I still don't - except these are special. Don't argue - you KNOW they are. I said so!)
So what does this damned little hen start doing? Singing. That's what! There I am sitting at my desk paying bills when I hear this trilling and warbling like Maria Callas on LSD. I've got two canaries rescued from a homeless "bag lady" (and that's a whole nother story too) who sing better than Caruso when they try but mostly end up imitating the cell-phone but this little hen started singing like a diva at La Scala.
We brought her home and put her in the chicken-run with the other pullets who immediately attacked her like Velociraptors on crack cocaine. Yes, they are racists and don't like black hens - believe me! Would I lie to you? So Maria Callas ended up in the spare canary cage by herself in the guest bedroom.
Then the oddest thing happened. At first she got her tits in a tangle everytime I touched her but by now she was getting used to being handled and, every time I tickled her titties - er rubbed her breast - she purred. Yes - purred! Okay it was more like a little trill than a purr - you know like the Tribbles in Star Trek - only cuter.
If ever you've raised quail, you know that they trill and sing. Have I got a cross between a quail and a chicken? She's very small for her age and very pretty so I wouldn't be surprised.
Of course, being a Republican capitalist pig, I already have big plans for Maria Callas. I can just see her name in lights down at the WalMart parking lot in the local town. I'll bill her as "Maria Callas the Singing Chicken of Southern Oregon" and make millions! I'm just hoping she can sing Puccini arias and Bach cantatas without having to get drunk first. Maybe she can imitate Engelbert Humperdink in the shower like me.
This is ridiculous. I mean I've heard tales of singing chickens before but I've never met one in person. I'm wondering if Peace Moonbeam and Scooter have done some horrible commie pothead juju on me to make me vegetarian. Next thing I'll be singing "Kumbaya" in duet with Maria Callas and eating tofu and bean sprouts and kissing Cindy Sheehan on the lips. Oh the horror! I'd rather kiss a chicken's asshole - at least they lay eggs.
posted by Joubert at 12:01 AM
The Alliance
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