Thoughts from a chicken....
Last week was the Golden Valley County Fair. Our granddaughter Avery was a very active participant, showing 15 chickens, some sewing, photography and plants. The whole family spent four days there in a borrowed camper, and from my observation, from a kid's point of view, it was probably better than DisneyWorld! I think, however, that a chicken at the fair, may have another point of view. I would like to show you what I think Avery's prize-winning rooster would say about the fair.
Hi, my name is Peacock. Yes, Peacock! I am not a peacock, I am a Plymouth Barred Rock rooster, and proud, of it, but they call me Peacock. I found out last weekend, that this is not the worst of the indignities I would have to suffer. My human took me to the Golden Valley County Fair, along with 14 of my chicken yard crew. First they stuffed me into a small cage and loaded me into a vehicle and drove for a half hour to get to the fair. Then I was put into a small cage in an open barn with the other chickens as well as many more chickens, rabbits and ducks that I didn't even know.
And they wondered why I wanted to bite them. Things went downhill from there. I was given a bath! Yes, a bath for a chicken! I prefer dust baths in the chicken yard, but here I was, bathing in public! But that was not the worst of it- they dug through my feathers looking for bugs, probed around my butt to make sure it was clean and even gave me a blood test! Then my comb and feet were groomed and greased, so I looked so beautiful, even I was kinda proud!
They put me back in my cage after that for awhile, but then they came to take me out again. I was afraid of more bathing or bug picking torture, so I bit them whenever they reached in to get me out. Finally, the big guy called, Dad, grabbed me and pulled me out, but not without me getting a little taste of him! My human then carried me over to a table with her hand over my eyes so I couldn't see or bite, where I then had to stand next to a bunch of other strange chickens, while this guy in a red shirt gave us a good feel. All over! The embarrassment! Scheesch! Soon people were clapping and I was stuffed back into my cage, thank God!
I had to live in that little cage in that barn with all those strange chickens for two more days, with little humans running all over the place, staring into my cage, poking their fingers at me (they didn't do that very much after I pecked a couple of them) and yelling and hollering all day long. On the third day, they hauled me out again, washed my butt, checked me over and greased my comb and feet again, and my human took me out into an arena where a man called an auctioneer hollered out a bunch of numbers. I was a 900, whatever that means, but I guess it was a good thing, because later, when the human called Dad wanted to wring my neck for biting him, my human would not let him because she said I was a grand champion!
After this fiasco, to top off all the horrible things that could happen to a chicken, all the humans left the barn area and went off to feast on.....barbecued chicken! At that point, I guess I was glad to only have to have a trip, a bath and a prodding, All's well that ends well they say and I am now back at my coop with my own hens, but Dad says I had better change my attitude, or I will be a barbecued chicken soon.
My human with one of my hens.
Some of the little humans, who ran amuck all weekend!
TTFN from Bobby and Peacock