My entire life has been reduced to this.  I have become Mrs. Tweedy.  Either that, or Mr. Tweedy.  I am not sure.  And that is how pathetic I am.  If you do not know Mrs. Tweedy, you have not seen Chicken Run.  I feel that somehow your life is incomplete, if this is true.

You see, Chicken Run is one of my favorite movies. Ever.  But I am a big FAN of the Wallace, and the Gromit.  So it would follow that I like Chicken Run.  Anyway, digress.

Back to the Tweedy’s.  I think, apparently, I am spending WAY too much time with chickens.  Lately… I feel like Mrs. Tweedy, in that I am ready to make my world-famous Chicken Pies.  Mass-produced, in fact.

And I feel like Mr. Tweedy because most days, I suspect those chickens may be organized, and they are plotting against me.

Now if you had suggested to me 6 to 8 weeks ago, that  I would ever harm a feather on one of those baby chicks’ heads, I would have scoffed, spit, and forcefully objected to such an accusation.  But today, I am checking Angie’s List for chicken butchers.

Oh, you can only push a girl so far.  And Dorothy, and Edgar Allen Poultry, are really pushing those limits.

Truthfully, you know, I am mostly joking.  There are joys in each day with that batch of poultry.  Like today, Tommy found his voice.  Yes.  Tommy is our “pretty” rooster.  He looks just like the dude on the Kellog’s Corn Flakes box.  And today, he cock-a-doodle-doo-ed for the first time.  He surprised himself, and had to give a few more rounds.  The other roosters pick on him.  He is pretty, AND smart.  AND he can sing.  He must be gay.

Then there is one of the Blue’s.  She is so dang sweet and really likes to be near me.  All the time.  I’ve been calling her Ms. Addie.  Adele.

Madeline, or Louise, (they both look a lot alike, and were the pasty-butts when they were young)…. well ONE of them flies over into the New Hampshire’s Sanctuary, and gives them holy-heck.  I think it is because she is the smallest of the Orpingtons.  She gets holy-heck from her tribe.

These are just a handful of the chicken stories.  As for the ones who have really ticked me off… well…. I guess I need to find forgiveness.
Yes, “Forgiveness” is the message here tonight.  I should find complete absolution for them.

Is it okay to forgive a chicken?

I guess so.

If they, in turn, forgive me.  When I ship them off to Pie Factory.
Cock-A-Doodle-Do.