It's almost Easter. When I was a kid, my parents would buy us those little colored chicks. Unlike most families, though, where those chicks soon bit the dust, ours almost always managed to make it to adulthood. The ones that lived were all roosters; I guess it makes sense to sell the non-egg-producers for the pet trade. So Mom and Dad would find homes for all but one, because otherwise they fight. I've never asked, but hopefully those "homes" were a nice chicken coop with hens somewhere, and not someone's freezer.
I learned a few things about chickens from this experience.
1. A Watch Rooster is much scarier than a Watch Dog.
2. Chickens apparently don't see very well so you have to verbally identify yourself if you want to enter the yard of a Watch Rooster. Otherwise, you are toast.
3. If you tuck a chicken's head under its wing and then rock it gently back and forth a couple of times, it will go to sleep. My mom learned that from her father...I'd really like to know where he got it from.
4. Roosters are so tough that not even a mauling from two Labrador Retrievers will slow them down for more than a couple of days.
Even now, more than 30 years later, I miss hearing that Er-er-er-awwwk! every morning.
And today I am thankful that there ARE mornings.
Vague ramblings by me, behavioral med/research nurse extraordinaire, widely-collected artist (OK, so I've only sold 4 paintings) and ebay queen. Delve into the life of a not-so-average, overweight, over-the-hill single mom...such crazy excitement (yeah, right)!
About Me
- Jodie
- My mom says, "Jodie, I never know what you'll do next!". I guess I'm a pretty traditional person in a lot of ways but I sure seem to have a more twisty life path than most people.
9 comments:
Hello, Jodie. Thanks for visiting "Child of Illusion" and leaving a comment. I clicked on your name just to see who you were and discovered you're in Oklahoma! Where, exactly, are you? I'm in Tulsa. You sound like a very interesting person. (I LOVE the name of your blog!). I have another blog at meditationmatters.blogspot.com that focuses more on my work. I am a meditation teacher and do a form of inner work with people called spiritual direction or meditation therapy. I've often thought about getting training in hypnotherapy (as I do use some guided visualization) and so I'm very interested in that aspect of your work. Would love to hear from you again. My email is: efinlay@intcon.net
Wow - you are the first chicken expert I've read. I think you should make a chicken-u-mentory show so everyone can understand the exciting, yet unpredictable world of chickens.
There is so more more than breast meat (although as a dog, I still would argue that's the best part)
Cal
Ack! Blogger and comments - makes me want to scream like a chicken.
I did not know you could rock a chicken to sleep. I have tucked this interesting bit of information away for later use, when in some conversation someday, I will pull it out to the amazement of all. With full credit given, of course.
I love the stuff you learn on the net. :)
That is the funniest post about chickens I have ever read. I wish I had some sort of plaque to give you.
Mmmm... all chicken stories I've ever learned from my folks involved a chicken with its head off running around. That doesn't seem to fit in here though...
My girlfriend's mom bought some baby ducks. I'd rather have a chocolate bunny and be done with it.
When I was young, my father was persuaded by a business partner to start a chicken farm as a sideline. As a result, I came to hate chickens (it's that accusing look in their eyes when they watch you collecting the eggs) but the chicks were quite interesting. We used to buy them in boxes of a hundred day-old chicks and keep them in old stable under an incubation light until they were big enough to fend for themselves. At the time I thought they were quite cute, fluffy little bundles constantly on the move and peep-peeping the day away. But chicks grow up to be chickens (quite quickly) with all the mess, smells and gang mentality that implies. For years I detested the taste of chicken.
Gone, my grandparents kept chickens. It was terriby scary to go into the dimness of the hen house and have all those beady black eyes staring at me as I stuck my hand under them to see if there were any eggs...you just never knew when one of them would decide to peck, or fly at your head or even just start cackling...
Keef, you'd be surprised at how easy it is to tuck even the biggest, meanest chicken's head under a wing and rock them.
Pick the chicken up in both hands, over the wings, holding it away from you. Quickly tuck it gently but firmly in the crook of your arm, trapping one wing against your body and leaving the other wing free...the feet really can't do anything to you in that position. Then put your other hand over the chicken's eyes and gently push the head to the free wing side. Then put the wing over it. Grasping the chicken again in both hands, with palms over the wings and fingers supporting the breast, rock gently with slight up and down motion. Works like a charm. :)
You qualify also as a hypnochic, too, Jodie...lay one in your lap on its back, and stroke the feathered tummy.
Thenwhat?
Er, tell it to lay more eggs, I suppose.
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