A day spent pondering. . .

whether or not chickens “ganter”, as I attempted to describe their awkward mode of transport. Gantered is not a word I see anymore, although there is some reference to the usage in gangsta speak. But I was thinking of how a horse or steer gantered up the hill.


Perhaps the word does not fit the willy nilly manner in which the raptor runs, legs splayed, wings flapping. I chuckle each time I see one of the ladies decide someone has found an edible, at least one that is better than what she is currently brutalizing. I would insert a photo, but the chicken run is best experienced via moving pictures, or in person. So perhaps a field trip to the “farm” would be in order for the curious, or bored, or technologically isolated. Is there something down there, Buffy?

I don’t know Muffy, but everyone is looking, so there must be.


On a day when I was feeling particularly brave, radical, and education oriented, I put a couple of chickens into an animal carrier and walked onto the ferry with them. People were politely amused, surprised to see kentucky without the fried peering back at them. Others hurriedly pulled out their N95 face masks and jumped overboard.


When arriving at school, I by-passed the faculty workroom and slipped straight into the classroom. Get out your sketchbooks, we’ve got live models today! A what?! Will it bite? I have never seen a real chicken before! Class, raise your hand if you have never seen a live chicken before. Over half. Really. Sad.


How many of you have ever touched a live chicken? Three. 4H. Really. Sad.


Chicken Twister in Last Year’s Snow

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  • Comments (2)
  1. Touch a live chicken? You bet, I have picked up these
    colorful critters a few times and put them back in their
    chicken run, then watched them fly over and escape again.
    Ah, the call of the worms and grubs is too much for them.
    I had to outsmart them in order to catch them.
    It is good to know that I am at least smarter than a chicken!!

    • jadegardens
    • February 17th, 2010

    I remember watching you pick up a stick, scratch on the ground, and pretend to have food. It worked! However, I would not say the experience proves that you are smarter than a chicken, most likely it best illustrates the addictive, obsessive, compulsive gluttony of our hen friends. Twelve Step. Hi, my name is Tweedle Dee and I ate the whole thing. tee hee.

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