We have chicken shit going on. As in, we had two pet chickens. And the fat little girl next door let them out of their cage and the dogs ate them. So my dad took The Nice Kid back and got her two more only...they are beautiful. Like, really pretty. As chickens go.
Until the fat little girl next door's BROTHER showed up, stole the chickens and the next day? We found them in the neighbor's garage, no food and no water, in a box.
These people walk among you. They sit in church three times a week, and consider themselves saved and you damned.
Go figure. They must be reading a different book.
ANYWAY, a couple of weeks ago, our hen died. She had some rather unpleasant physical issues and we kind of think an egg got stuck. Didn't think it enough to find out, but that makes sense. And the poor little boy chicken did okay for a day or so and then...he got REAL lonely. Like boys do. And since he has that opposing digit problem, don't guess there was a lot he could do about it. So finally, my dad loads up TNK and they go get a female only...she's a different breed. And while our lovely, showy, fluffy rooster is beautiful, he's short. (Not short enough to have a red Porsche, but then that's not his decision.)
When we got home the kids took the new hen out and proceeded to set up the new coop and they're fretting because the chickens don't match any more. She's black and white and tall with skinny legs, while he's short and portly and fluffy. I explained this didn't really matter and the rooster didn't waste ANY time establishing the rules, but then I was sitting in the house working on something and I heard one of the kids say, "We could always cut the legs off."
You don't immediately react to a statement like that. You sort of sit there, waiting for affirmation or reassurance or...an explanation. And when none was forthcoming within the next...oh, say, ONE MILLIONTH OF A SECOND, I went outside to investigate.
Turns out, they were talking about the coop. Cutting off the legs of the coop.
I knew that. Except, these are the people who will care for me in my old age and you know...you can't be too careful. They could drive a convertible if I didn't have any legs. Just prop me up behind the passenger seat.