Sunday, July 22, 2012

Why Can't We Just Have Zombie Problems Like Everybody Else?

The McCoy hounds struck again. They got a little spring chicken. One of the sixteen that hatched at the same time.

Farmer H found a pile of black feathers over in the BARn field. So like those McCoy curs, to pluck the poultry on our property, then take the naked bird back home to ingest at their leisure.

Maybe it's a conspiracy. The McCoys train their hounds to catch, kill, pluck, and deliver. Then the humans bake the fowl. The tantalizing, tasty, succulent little pet of The Pony. While they suck their teeth and wipe the grease on the backs of their hands, they argue over whether the rooster has sex with the chicken or the hen.

One thing's for sure. I would never take them a Marble Rye.

6 comments:

Sioux said...

Not even if you had to toss it high up into the open arms of a friend?

Are these chicken thieves paying for their loot? If not, why not?

knancy said...

Now having flashbacks on the movie "Deliverance". But, I have to confess that when I lived in the country my Labrador, Sally, grabbed a neighbor's chicken. However, that chicken was in my garden eating my seeds/food. I carried the dead chicken to my neighbor who was in his garden and explained what happened. He just said to get rid of it and not let his wife know. She would not miss it - they had a lot of chickens! So I go back home and figure I would clean it and stew it and feed the cats and dogs. OMG! By the time I read my Fox Fire books and went through the whole process, I looked up into the sky and declared I would never, ever bitch about the price of boneless, skinless chicken breasts from Kroger as long as I live! Sorry for your loss, though.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Not even if a friend attached it to a hook on the end of a fishing line so I could reel it in the open window of a third-floor apartment! Those McCoys deserve a ride in a Hansom cab pulled by a Beef-a-Reeno fed horse named Rusty.

The McCoys are free-loadin' on the poultry bill. Farmer H wants to take the hound and put it in a pen with a rooster. Which is a waste of a perfectly good rooster if you ask me, but we certainly have roosters to spare.

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knancy,
I am tired just reading about your fowl escapade. Farmer H always says he's going to kill a rooster and have fresh chicken and dumplings. I tell him the kitchen is his any day he chooses. It hasn't happened yet.

Since the road-kill turkey debacle in the rusted deep-fryer, I choose not to consume any bird cooked by the Farmer.

Chickadee said...

what happened to the supposed shock collar fence? and why won't those neighbors put up a friggin fence?

Kathy's Klothesline said...

You paint quite a picture with your story of road kill. I used to watch my grandmother wring the neck of a poor unsuspecting bird, then "dress" it. This involved a bucket of boiling water, seems scalding makes the plucking easier. Shall I go on?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Chick,
You tell me! I don't know what happened, but Farmer H is the one who assumed there was a shock collar fence. And you know what happens when we assume...we make dead chickens out of our pets.

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Kathy,
I watched my grandma wring the necks and pop off the heads, but I lost interest before the plucking. The highlight was the headless chickens running around the yard willy-nilly.