Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Buck Buck Buck
While walking my dogs this afternoon, a chicken crossed our path. Apparently, it gets out of it’s coop quite often, and none of the neighbors outside seemed concerned. I was glad my three dogs didn’t see the chicken or I would have had quite a fight on my hands. This chicken was copper-colored, and had a small red comb on the top of its head. I’m assuming this meant it was a rooster. He wasn’t cock-a-doodle-doing, but it was 4:00 pm, not sunrise. Do hens have combs? (Being girls they probably only have brushes.) Let me just say I wasn’t impressed with the size of the comb. I hope I’m not insulting its manhood. I just thought a rooster comb would be bigger and kind of floppy. My barnyard animal experience is limited mostly to what I’ve seen on cartoons. Needless to say, today’s chicken did not resemble Foghorn Leghorn - the big white, extremely annoying and loud cartoon rooster. The last time the subject of chickens came up was about 25 years ago. I was taking my two-year-old son, Ben, to the sitter. I got in the car, and promptly sat on my lunch. Then, without thinking, I blurted out the F word. I heard the bad word coming back at me from Ben. To cover for my blunder, I said “Yup, that’s what a chicken says - buck, buck, buck”. I looked in my rearview mirror, and could see the wheels in his head turning. No more comments were made, so I think he bought my story. I guess that doesn’t count as a brush with nature, but it’s all I got. My niece in Idaho once told me that she found a beef cow in her front yard. I thought all cows were made out of beef. See what I mean? There is so much I don’t know about the animal world. I hope if I run into the neighborhood chicken again, I will be able to tell whether it’s a rooster or a hen. At least I know it’s not made out of beef. Right?