Chicken Lust

October 19, 2011

I am having nesting urges. I do not want babies. I want chickens. I want to get up in the morning and let them out of their hen house and listen to them cluck with glee as I dole out kitchen scraps. I want to eat eggs with vibrant orange yolks for breakfast, and know that they got that way because the hens are keeping our resident cockroach population in check. Circle of life, and all that jazz.

We live in an urban neighborhood, but houses on our street (including our own) all have small yards, and it is even LEGAL to have chickens (under a certain hen/sq. ft. density – no roosters allowed). We eat a lot of eggs and I feel like a small flock of less than half a dozen would satisfy my farm girl itch for a while.

However, it would be rather impractical given our current state of uncertainty. What if we take new jobs in the next 6 months? Who do you give your chickens to when you move out of state? I have no idea.

So, no chickens for now. Look, but don’t touch. I know how you feel, kid.

Fucking chicken. Can't even take it home with me.


4 Responses to “Chicken Lust”

  1. Lauren said

    Oh my god you’re amazing.

  2. Magpie said

    I can’t decide if the chicken is freakishly huge or if the kid’s growth is stunted by underage smoking. Either way, you’re right, the size discrepancy is sort of alarming.

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