Owning Chickens is Awkward
The chickens are awesome.
I'm getting 2-3 eggs a day right now.
My pets make me food..... and when they cease to make me food, they will become food. They are the most perfect pets ever. Also, they eat slugs, so I no longer have to worry about stepping on any of those creepy unbelievably gigantic slugs that the Pacific Northwest seems to breed. The chickens are pretty tame now. They've gone from being completely unhandled to following me around the yard, begging for food.
On a side note - did you know that I'm an extremely popular person? No matter how hard I try I can't manage to sneak outside without two little boys, two cats, and now three chickens revolving around me like some kind of really loud, awkward solar system. On Friday I'm going to add a puppy to the mix. I miss my solitude some days, but at least my self esteem is doing well.
So, back to the chickens.... Yeah. The chickens are getting tame. They seem to like it here, and they like me.
They really like me.
And by like me, I mean they REALLY like me.
They trail me around whenever I'm in the yard, clucking and complaining, and if I turn around to pay attention to them, they, uh...
Well, I'll just be blunt: They assume the position.
Yes, that's right. Every time I turn around to pay attention to one of my new chickens, she crouches, flares her wings, and looks over her shoulder at me, waggling her little chicken eyebrows suggestively. I know chickens can't speak, but I can hear it clear as day:
Hop on, Sailor.
Do you have any idea how incredibly awkward it is to try to carry on a conversation with your neighbor while three chickens flutter around you, desperately begging for sex?
I mean, don't get me wrong--- I'm flattered. It's always nice to be admired, and I do love my chickens.
I just don't LOVE my chickens, you know?
I'm getting 2-3 eggs a day right now.
My pets make me food..... and when they cease to make me food, they will become food. They are the most perfect pets ever. Also, they eat slugs, so I no longer have to worry about stepping on any of those creepy unbelievably gigantic slugs that the Pacific Northwest seems to breed. The chickens are pretty tame now. They've gone from being completely unhandled to following me around the yard, begging for food.
On a side note - did you know that I'm an extremely popular person? No matter how hard I try I can't manage to sneak outside without two little boys, two cats, and now three chickens revolving around me like some kind of really loud, awkward solar system. On Friday I'm going to add a puppy to the mix. I miss my solitude some days, but at least my self esteem is doing well.
So, back to the chickens.... Yeah. The chickens are getting tame. They seem to like it here, and they like me.
They really like me.
And by like me, I mean they REALLY like me.
They trail me around whenever I'm in the yard, clucking and complaining, and if I turn around to pay attention to them, they, uh...
Well, I'll just be blunt: They assume the position.
Yes, that's right. Every time I turn around to pay attention to one of my new chickens, she crouches, flares her wings, and looks over her shoulder at me, waggling her little chicken eyebrows suggestively. I know chickens can't speak, but I can hear it clear as day:
Hop on, Sailor.
Do you have any idea how incredibly awkward it is to try to carry on a conversation with your neighbor while three chickens flutter around you, desperately begging for sex?
I mean, don't get me wrong--- I'm flattered. It's always nice to be admired, and I do love my chickens.
I just don't LOVE my chickens, you know?
posted by Becky at
10:27 PM
10 Comments:
Did any of the books or forums tell you to expect this? That must be one of those things that the other chicken owners don't talk about.
Yup. The beauty of birds with small minds.... Congratulations! You've somehow managed to imprint your chickens even though they're past imprinting age. :-)
If it makes you feel better, my Dad has a special gift for birds. At different times when we were growing up, he had a pea-hen, a turkey, a goose and more than one chicken madly in love with him.
There are worse things, right? Absolutely.
my chickens don't do this. should i be insulted? they do like to collectively sprint in a straight line toward anyone who enters the backyard, however.
You smell like rooster pheromones when you sweat. The bean wrote all about it.
This is hilarious. Dying...
At least you're popular. I love chickens. Watching chickens is more fun than tv.
Laughing...not AT you, you know! :)
P.S...so glad you're blogging again. Missed you and your thoughts on the PNW!
i wanna be in your nerd competition. i had those same glasses! we need to be sure the competition covers not just our appearance, but the nerdy things we did too.
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