Important Chicken Update
I don’t know how many angels fit on the head of a pin, but I can tell you how many chickens fit on a wooden chair: four. Okay, probably six in a pinch, but I’ve only got the four.
I swear I didn’t put them up to it. I went out the kitchen door, and there they were, looking thoroughly cheesed off with everything and everybody.
At some molecular level, they know Fall is coming. They’ve shut down egg production and they’re molting. Molting: their feathers are falling out. Great clumps of them. When I open the henhouse in the morning, it looks like they’ve been having pillow fights all night. They have bald spots and spikey bits where the new feathers are growing in. They look dreadful and they’re crabby as hell.
You know when they show pictures of rescued battery chickens, and they’re all bald and fucked up? The big farms dump battery chickens when they reach a year old, during their first molt. Not that factory farms aren’t dreadful, but those chickens look like shit for (mostly) perfectly natural reasons.
Blogging chickens. Not blogging politics. Politics was stupid today. Chickens are less stupid than politics. Even molting chickens.