It started off with me innocently spraying my new herb garden for bugs. Little did I know, Farming was behind me opening the chicken coop and pulling out a bird to nestle with.
I put up a bit of a fuss when he started bringing it over to me.
"No. I don't need to see it. I can see it from here. Just stop....no, stop....Seriously. STOP!"
"What?" he asks. "It's not going to get you." This as it springs from his grasp, chirping wildly, and flies six feet from his hand smacking its head into the side of the hen house.
Oh, so hilariouuussss.
And then his started his Chicken Whisperer routine.
"Who's a chick-chick?.....Awww, poor chick-chick....."
"Come here. It's okay. You wanna' walk on my shoulder?"
"You can sit on my head. Just don't lay an egg....."
Yeah....he's gonna' hate me for that one. Well, that what he gets. I told him to stop.
He told me that they just want to be loved and if we treat them like pets, they'll lay more eggs for us. This as a second one sprung from his grasp, chirping wildly, and flew six feet from his hand smacking its head into the side of the hen house.
No, I'm not repeating myself. It actually happened twice. With two different chickens, after which I briefly considered the possibility that I may have overestimated the fright-factor on these birds.
Nope, I didn't. Just creepy.
After about 10 minutes of lovin' and touchin' and squeezin' (and screaming and scaring and running), the show started to wind down. The birds were getting tired. Their little hearts were racing. Prince Farming had been about pecked out. It was time to say good night.
But, not without a little audience participation first.
Chicks to you!
Love ya', gang!
No comments:
Post a Comment