In attempt to continually grow our menagerie, Manny and I added chickens to the list of pets. (Yes, we hunted some down.) Netting one-to-four eggs per day, these feathered ladies have brought our count to six food sucking, albeit lovable animals. But unlike the cats, chickens help earn their keep by producing delicious, gigantic eggs. Seriously, these things are twice the size of the store-bought versions, taste roughly a million times better, and even come with orange yokes.
Would we still like them if they didn’t produce food? Probably, but we’re still getting used to their robotic personalities, so it’s hard to tell. (We’re not sure if they like us either.)
So far in our almost two months of bonding, the chickens have resembled zombies more than pets. With their mindless wandering and incoherent babble, it’s as though they become more undead by the day. It’s only a matter of time before they suck our brains via straw, and take over the place for themselves.
Don’t believe me?
They walk extremely slow but travel great distances in no time
In a manner of unsupervised minutes, the chickens have made it across the yard, driveway, or alley and are trespassing their way into creepiness. Leave them alone for the better part of an hour, and they’ve dug their way through someone else’s flower beds, leaving a leafy mess in their wake.
They are forever babbling
The ladies are always bawking and squawking, no matter the activity. Bedtime, eating time, out-of-the-coop time, it’s the same noise – blach, blach, blach! Even when you can’t see them, it causes an uneasy feeling likely to stand hairs on end.
They eat anything and everything that gets in their path
No bug has yet to make it out of their sight with its head intact. Come within a two-foot radius and the chickens will peck your small little body until there’s nothing left. Look out, insect population, you don’t stand a chance in our bird-filled yard.
Things come out of their bodies
Aside from eggs and normal bodily functions, the chickens sometimes leak barf-inducing substances. It might be a shell-less egg, or it might be their intestines sliding out and just waiting to be pushed back in – who can tell? The tube-like slimy substances all look the same.
Dogs want to eat them
Pseudo-fast moving as they may be, it’s still not quick enough to outrun a trained hunting dog. They may have only lost a few tail feathers to date, but that squawk will only scare off smaller breeds. It’s only a matter of time before a rogue pup sinks into more than feathers and dirt, and then it gets sunk into with my bullets.
Should that day come, like zombies, maybe chickens’ heads can be reattached. Rather than hosting a funeral, we’d just plop the top back on and attach it with tape for good measure. Though it’s not an experiment I’d like to test until necessary, it’s definitely a Plan B worth exploring.
I’ll let you know how it turns out.