Today's naked underage redneck chick post

Chicken producers debate ‘natural’ label:

A disagreement among poultry producers about whether chickens injected with salt, water and other ingredients can be promoted as “natural” has prompted federal officials to consider changing labeling guidelines.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture had maintained that if chickens weren’t flavored artificially or preserved with chemicals, they could carry the word “natural” on the package.

But the agency agreed to take another look at its policy after some producers, politicians and health advocates noted that about one-third of chickens sold in the U.S. are injected with additives that could represent up to 15 percent of the meat’s weight, doubling or tripling the sodium content.

Today's naked underage redneck chick post

From Martin Gurdon's new monthly chicken column:

I've kept hens for 13 years, and they now live with a quartet of bonkers Indian Runner ducks (the ones that look like feathery milk bottles) in our rural Kentish garden.

Svenson, the cockerel, has a love rival. The other protagonist is Bombay, an Indian Runner, whose hormones go ballistic every spring, causing him to fall in love with Bella the chicken.

It all began last summer when Svenson was then still learning the ropes of cockerelhood, and approached his girls with the enthusiasm of a pillaging Viking. Given that some of them were old enough to be his great grandmother, this didn't go down well. We separated him from the pensioner hens, and ran a kind of bird exeat system, releasing him into the garden with selected younger birds. Bombay, along with his official girlfriend, Crispy, was allowed to mix with the remaining chickens. And that was when the trouble started. Last year's vicious winter dampened Svenson's ardour, and he is much improved, although his seduction technique is hardly George Clooney. Not so Bombay, who has been chasing Bella and causing her to seek refuge under garden shrubs. To help take his mind off Bella, we acquired two extra duck girlfriends, Hoisin and Peking. They never laid eggs and initially, Bombay was reluctant to let Hoisin into the pond.

"That's because they're drakes," said our ex-farmer neighbour, and she was right. Now poor old Crispy has three suitors, and risks being drowned if they get overexcited.

Meanwhile, Bella nearly did drown, when she ended up in the pond, pursued by Bombay. So now we're back to avian apartheid, and the lady who sold us Hoisin and Peking arrives tomorrow to take them back. It's chaos, but we're still sad to see them go.

As for the Svenson/Bella/Bombay triangle; we emailed Telegraph vet Pete Wedderburn for advice. Pete, who's owned Indian Runners, said separation was the only option, and added ominously: "We had to lock up the rabbits."

Our first ducks were Indian Runners and I can confirm Gurdon's observation that they are "bonkers." The drake, Daffy, did not rape our hens but he did give his humans nasty "love bites" and probably would have humped us like a horny dog if he'd had four legs.

One night Daffy was murdered by a raccoon so we got a pair of mallards to keep his widow, Dilly, company. One day the mallards flew away and only the drake came back a few days later. We figured that the female had been shot by a duck-hunter.

The male, Sir Francis Drake, became so lonely that he started hanging out with the chickens. Then a few months ago, Bob gave us three Khaki Campbell ducks. One of the new ducks turned out to be a drake but the two drakes are complete gentlemen towards each other and have not yet had one fight. Sir Francis however is not much of a gentleman with the new ladies.

PS Our cocks are not fussy about raping their own grandmothers and do it regularly.

Today's naked underage redneck chick post

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Scientists have finally cracked the mystery:

It is an age-old riddle that has perplexed generations. Now British scientists claim to have finally come up with the definitive answer: The chicken.

The scientific and philosophical mystery was purportedly unraveled by researchers at Sheffield and Warwick universities, according to the Daily Mail newspaper.

The scientists found that a protein found only in a chicken's ovaries is necessary for the formation of the egg, according to the paper Wednesday. The egg can therefore only exist if it has been created inside a chicken.

The protein speeds up the development of the hard shell, which is essential in protecting the delicate yolk and fluids while the chick grows inside the egg, the report said.

"It had long been suspected that the egg came first but now we have the scientific proof that shows that in fact the chicken came first," said Dr. Colin Freeman, from Sheffield University's Department of Engineering Materials, according to the Mail.

"The protein had been identified before and it was linked to egg formation, but by examining it closely we have been able to see how it controls the process," he said.

Naked underage redneck chicks - velociraptors

We've known for a while that dromaeosaurs like velociraptors may have had feathers:

A new look at some old bones have shown that velociraptor, the dinosaur made famous in the movie Jurassic Park, had feathers. The discovery was made by paleontologists at the American Museum of Natural History and the Field Museum of Natural History.

Scientists have known for years that many dinosaurs had feathers. Now the presence of feathers has been documented in velociraptor, one of the most iconic of dinosaurs and a close relative of birds.

Last Spring we bought six brown Leghorn chicks. As soon as they were old enough to let them run around outside, we dubbed them the "velociraptors" because they have much longer legs than regular chickens and narrower torsos - and they can run like hell.

This is a buff Orpington hen with the short legs and typical plump torso of most chickens:




















This is a brown Leghorn with its long legs and narrow breast:


















A velociraptor:
















A brown Leghorn cock:

Naked underage redneck chicks

These chicks really are underage. The joint is jumping with spring chickens nowadays.

This is Freezer-burn (so named because she was put in the fridge unhatched before we realized that the egg was fertile) with her two adopted kids. She is a wonderful mother. The chicks had to be taken away from the real mother because she was psycho.

































Freezer-burn inherited her maternal genes from her mother, Turandot the cochin, who is seen here with her five babies.
































This is Boa demonstrating to her chicks how they will one day lose their heads. Boa, a full-sized hen, adopted five bantam babies from another psycho bantam bitch. Because Boa is so big, her chicks are very bold knowing that their mom will beat up anyone who messes with her babies.































































This is our new cock. We have decided to call him Mahomed because he looks like a Muslim terrorist.






















Mahomed is an Ameraucana. This pic is for Chas do he can see the ear tufts on a Chilean Auracana.

Not quite naked underage redneck chicks

Sometimes us three dirty old men talk about other things than naked underage redneck chicks. Sometimes we talk about naked underage redneck ducks like the three Khaki Campbell ducklings that Bob from Eugene gave us.

Here is Sir Francis the mallard drake who was widowed last year when his wife flew away to join the circus and was probably shot by a duck-hunter:

















Here are the three new ducklings, April, May and June - except June is really John - who are being introduced to Sir Francis slowly as they are still underage and he's a horny old drake who makes inappropriate advances on the girls:

Naked underage redneck chicks and my new cock

Nine times out of ten the dinner conversation among us three merry men of Robin's Wood is the usual stuff that dirty old men talk about: naked underage redneck chicks and politics.

Since politics is so dreary nowadays, we usually end up talking about naked underage redneck chicks. The joint is jumping right now with spring chickens - and ducks - and our new cock.

Yes, I know the more polite word for a male chicken is rooster but it's also inaccurate. All chickens, male and female, roost; therefore they are all roosters. A male chicken is a cock. The euphemism "rooster" was introduced about the same time as the filthy-minded Victorians started putting fabric covers on piano legs. It also coincided with the low-class slang word for penis becoming known to the upper classes. The euphemism stopped the tittering in classrooms.

Last week Andy phoned me from the farm feed store to ask me if I wanted a cock. Of course I said yes - when I found out that it was either an Araucana or an Ameraucana. Apparently some farmer had too many cocks and had dropped three off at the feed store to be adopted (or butchered.) I have been looking for a mild-mannered cock for a while now because I had to execute our last full-sized (not bantam) cock, Cecil Rhodes the Rhode Island Red, because he was a homocidal (henicidal?) rapist. Araucana and Ameraucana cocks are known for being mellow. Sure, they are sex maniacs but all cocks are.

The Ameraucana chicken is the north American version of the Araucana which is native to Chile (named after the Araucana aborigines). It is the only chicken that lays blue eggs and the cocks do not have the usual large "combs." Ameraucanas are easier to breed than Araucanas.

This is an Araucana cock:





















This is an Ameraucana cock:






















Here is my new cock which Chas thinks looks like a Mahomedan terrorist. He is rather ugly but he's not aggressive to the bantam cocks.

Hump Day Hottie

I see that Andy and Paul have succumbed to the Hump Day Hottie meme. Well, if you can't lick 'em, (they won't let me) join 'em.

Naked underage redneck chick post - life in the slow lane speeds up

As you may have noticed: I lead a very boring life. The latest excitement at Robin's Wood was the birth of four hybrid chicks - the third generation of furry-footed half-Cochin "Hobbits" and the adoption of six brown Leghorn pullets.

But there's been another exciting event looming on the horizon that is finally here: Andy's mom and oldest sister (and her husband) are arriving from Texas tomorrow for just over a week's visit. We haven't seen Andy's mom since she visited us in San Francisco and Chas and I have never met his oldest sister. So, yes, we're pretty excited.

Today was another perfect day in paradise here: 64F, blue skies and the apple trees in blossom. But it will be raining for the next two days. I guess that's appropriate. The part of Texas that Andy's from is pretty dry and his family expects it to be rainy in Oregon. Well, they'll get rain for two days at least but then it will be back to our boring spring perfection: blue skies and gentle spring breezes.

I love having a boring life in the slow lane. The boringer the better because I never get bored. Just sitting in the orchard today drinking a cup of tea, soaking up the sunshine, breathing in the soft scent of the apple blossoms, watching the chickens scratch for worms and yelling at the dogs to stop rolling in the chicken shit was enough excitement to wrap up the weekend for me.

I sometimes think I should have moved to Boring. Problem is that it's too close to Portland. BTW Boring was named after a man called Boring.

At least we know that Andy's family will not be bored - as our guests from San Francisco were. Unlike the latter, Andy's family are country people and will probably enjoy our chickens as much as we do. Our friends from SF started rolling their eyes when we started telling them the names of the chickens.

But I must admit that it will be fun to have someone else to talk to other than the chickens.