So, we have six chickens.
That's cool.
What's not cool? The chickens don't seem to be fulfilling their end of the bargain. You know- the bargain- like, I feed and house them comfortably and they give me fresh eggs. There's not a whole lot of fine print in this contract. It's pretty cut and dry. And Farmer Me's chicken-patience is wearing pretty darn thinso. Ima bout to go all pollo loco on them.
To make matters worse, it appears that the lead hen, whom we adequately named "Bessie" has decided to go all transgender on us. In fact, she was recently diagnosed as a he. Meaning she's not a hen, she's a rooster. Which, honestly, we were starting to wonder. She was making all sorts of racket in the mornings lately. But it was strange cause it wasn't a true cockle-doodle-doo. It sounded more like a rooster being stepped on by a cow... baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! But if Bessie has been receiving hormone injections of testosterone, or maybe she did surgery... I'm not sure of her methods? Whatever, the transformation seems to be complete. She/he has the cockle-doodle-doo down pat now. Stupid hen-rooster-thingy.
So, things couldn't look worse for her now. With all of her gender confusion, she has "transitioned" her way right into the proverbial "hanging noose". That's not really metaphorical either- she's getting her throat slit this weekend. Neighbor proximity due to local suburban planning will simply not allow for a rooster and the accompanying noise. Even if it was technically a hen first. I'm guessing locals are even less likely to accept a gender confused chicken than a full fledged foul mouthed rooster.
But that's just me.
(Seriously, you other five hens, I'm watching you! I want eggs!!! And soon, or else...)
That's pretty funny. Was the hen/rooster tasty?
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