Don’t Count Your Chickens

It seems the chicken craze has begun again. I say again because, well, it was big around here a few years back. Yep. Maybe it’s the whole virus thing; people want to have access to eggs in the comfort of their own home, or yard, in this case. But, rarely do these great ideas work out. My cousin ordered an incubator and eggs from Amazon. Yes, Amazon! Who knew? We should’ve known, though, because Amazon pretty much rules the world now. She now has nine little chicks. Nine! Who knows if she has nine roosters or nine hens. Nine roosters could be a bit problematic. I know these things because I was born in Louisiana in the days where roosters liked to get together and fight each other. Sometimes, humans would watch and bet on these things. I know, I know, but there is apparently no accounting for taste, or common sense. Anyway, it just isn’t good if you have more than one rooster. But, I digress. When this trend took off in my neighborhood, it was kinda cool for awhile. There were chickens everywhere, because you can’t really keep chickens from leaving home for greener pastures unless you have a proper chicken coop, which no one did. Soon, the chickens started to disappear and it was all the rage in the neighborhood email thing, which was originally created to report crime, but has since digressed to reporting lost dogs or, in this case, lost chickens. It wasn’t long before the culprit showed up; a pretty little red fox. Everyone was all up in arms about it but there was nothing to do. It had free range, so to speak. One morning, I went out to get the mail and here it came, galloping down the front walk, its mouth stuffed with its latest conquest. It ran by, shooting me a defiant glare. I just stepped out of its way, due to the whole new email argument about maybe the fox was rabid since it was out in the daytime. This was followed by all the rabies horror stories; how many shots you had to have if you were bit, and how somebody’s cousin actually had rabies and it didn’t end well, so, now, the little fox was smug and power crazed. The last neighborhood email was kind of funny, “The fox got my last chicken today. Boo hoo.” So, like I say, this current chicken craze may not end well, except for the little fox.