Thursday, October 04, 2007

Cluck, Cluck

The other day, as I drove my shiny new car down a bumpy backstreet of our neighborhood, Sarah hollered, "Stop! Look at those stuffed chickens." There they were, arrayed perfectly motionless along the porch rail of a ramshackle little house. We murmured at the strangeness of the decorative impulse.



Then one turned its head, then another, and another. Stop! Look at those live chickens.* We murmured at the strangeness of the urban-poultry-raising impulse.

You've got to love a town where keeping chickens is still considered a viable front porch endeavor.

* We've seen such things before (1, 2).

5 comments:

  1. Anonymous5:18 PM

    I\\\'ve heard word that Louisiana chickens took offense to this post, and are spending much effort towards becoming considered funnier than monkeys. Trickin\\\' people out by posing as stuffed animals in urban settings is part of the gig.

    Getting there, chickens. Getting there.

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  2. Anonymous5:21 PM

    Sorry about the excessive and accidental use of the backslash. Must preview, must preview.

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  3. Anonymous5:29 PM

    Geesh! This post.

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  4. Wait, is the drawing of the stuffed chickens or the live ones? How can I tell?

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  5. This story reminded Tom of his childhood and his pet rooster who rode around with him on the handlebars of his bike over on Claiborne!

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