Fowl Words: The Nitty Gritty of Fowl Language

| 10/1/2009 5:17:35 PM

Tags: chickens, language,

CindyMurphyBlog.jpgThere are times here that I feel like the black sheep of the GRIT blogging family. The one bad egg in clutch of good eggs. Why? Chickens, of course. I believe I might be the only blogger here that doesn’t keep chickens. I’ve never raised them. Not one itty-bitty chick; not once. Neither have I entertained the idea of keeping them in my backyard, nor do I (gasp!) have a desire to do so. It’s not that I have anything against them; I like a good chicken as much as the next person. I like them grilled, baked, or fricasseed. I don’t dispute the benefits of raising chickens. I know they taste better, are healthier, and there’s a sense of satisfaction in raising something yourself and presenting it to your family. That’s why I vegetable garden. But me raise chickens? No.

Leghorn chicks

The same goes for eggs. I see no need for my family to keep a chicken coop in the backyard to provide us with fresh eggs. A carton of eight eggs can last our family one, two, sometimes three months. We just don’t use that many except for the Easter egg dying tradition, the every-so-often Breakfast for Dinner, and the occasional art project.

I noticed Shelby coming down the stairs the other day headed to the refrigerator with a carton of eggs in her hand. “Uhm, Shelbs ... why did you have eggs up in your bedroom?” Call it Spotlight on Eggs. Her art assignment was to draw a still-life of eggs emphasizing the shadowing techniques they were working on in art class. My following question was how long she’s been working on the project, and more importantly how long have the eggs been up in her room. Three days. Time for them to hit the trash. They expired a month ago anyway.

But I’ll make an attempt to join the flock to put a chicken in every blog, and a coupe in every backyard. Or in the case here, I suppose that should be a “coop” in every backyard.

Cindy Murphy
10/24/2009 5:15:59 PM

Thanks for commenting, Elisse. I thought I was possibly the only person suffering from C.A.D.D, (Chicken Affection Deficit Disorder). It's good to know I may not be alone.

10/23/2009 9:57:20 AM

As someone who had the "pleasure" of working with chickens as a High School Aggie (John Bowne HS in Queens, NY; yes, Virginia, they have Aggies in NYC...), and turkeys on Kibbutz in Israel, I have NEVER understood the sincere and deep longing some folks have to raise them. My grandma, a photographer and theatre actress, for some inexplicable reason also raised chickens in Oklahoma back in the 1930's, and my mother raised me on some "amusing" tales of chickens literally running around without their heads when they weren't, uh, "killed right". Ugh. I recall chickens being, not to put too fine a point on it, Extremely Dirty. They also impressed me as not being the brightest critters in the universe, nor were they particularly good-natured... Dirty, stupid, and mean is a BAD combination... On the other hand, I never got so attached to one that I gave it a name, and thus couldn't eat it... They also, as I recall, had a penchant for canibalistic behavior, which wasn't terribly pleasant to deal with. (I did think the Polish hens that laid colored eggs were really cool...) But shoveling a seemingly endless amount of turkey manure Totally cured me from Ever wanting to raise them! Do NOT feel guilty!

Cindy Murphy
10/19/2009 11:46:43 AM

Glad you enjoyed the read, Shannon...and that you found it amusing. I used to write humor all the time, but it's been awhile since I've written anything just for the silliness of it. Good to know there's some humor left in me and I can still push out a funny line or two. Thanks for stopping in!

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