Some have suggested (in a nice way) that I have a strange sense of humour, so when my friend told me she couldn’t go for our weekly walk because she had to go pick up her eggs from their adopted chicken I was instantly amused. She told me about the program that the Edmonton Research Council has, called “Adopt a Chicken”.
People can adopt a chicken ( you get “matched” with a particular type of chicken) and get the eggs the hen lays. Occasionally adoptive parents get emails from the council showing a staff member holding a chicken that has been adopted. I immediately started to envision a chicken scratching out a word or two (sorry, pun intended) to their adoptive “parents” telling them how they are doing in school… Now you know about my sense of humour.
Anyways, I think it’s a great idea. For those of you who are so inclined, you can adopt a rooster. I personally would never adopt a rooster.
When I was about four years of age, I was visiting my grandparents on their farm in southern Saskatchewan. They had free range chickens (of course) and a rooster. My grandfather had split old rubber tires in half and placed water in one tire and chicken feed in the other. As any farm kid might do, I squatted down in front of the tire and swished a small twig that I had in my hand, in the water…
Before I knew it, the rooster attacked me. He jumped on my shoulders and began viciously pecking at my head. I began to scream as I got up and ran around the farmyard with this brute clawing at my hair and hanging on for dear life, but still pecking. My grandmother ran after us, trying to catch me so that she could pull the rooster off my back! I ended up with some pretty nasty cuts – so you’ll understand why I might not get a fuzzy warm feeling when I look at a rooster.
Next Blog: How do you know if you’ve got a real painting or a reproduction? I’ll tell you how. Stay tuned!