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Outlaw chickeners

egg… Deep in the heart of suburbia in a smallish backyard designed for more suitable and acceptable hobbies like barbecuing and ping pong and only the occasionally well-mannered dog, resides a woman with a dual identity. By day, she’s a mild-mannered DIY writer, who spends her time crafting and desk surfing, guiding readers in intriguing intellectual pursuits — such as, “Learn how to straighten out that wobbly table using a turnip!” or “How to redecorate your entire home with beer caps!” But by night, she’s an obsessed wanna-be chickener, reading all she can about raising her own small flock in Outer Urbia — the land of tract homes and concrete and crabby neighbors.

She did not gingerly step into a life of fowl artifice. Much study, covert planning and cunning online research bolstered her duplicity. Also her husband helped, too.

Anyway, in the end, she ordered eggs online, popped them in an incubator and 21 days later THIS HAPPENED:

chick-1

Tiny Chickling the First, Lord (or Lady) of Chickenry

And then after that, THIS NEXT THING HAPPENED:

… and like their hatchlings, the Outlaw Chickeners stepped floppily — if secretly — into the world.

Responses to "Outlaw chickeners"

pk says:

First Life Lesson–you can’t go back!

Ruth Ratzlaff says:

And there’s a 50-50 chance that the chicks are male, and therefore won’t produce eggs and will be too noisy for the neighbors in six weeks. So then who’s going to raise the rooster? Do you know someone who will slaughter it and butcher it for you?

Traci Arbios says:

Indeed I do — I have some 4H-ers at the ready and a local farm as a backup.

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