A couple of short funnies and a missed opportunity. Maybe.

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A couple of short funnies and a missed opportunity. Maybe.

I relayed to Hubby a conversation with a friend about how I wasn’t particularly interested in living to a ripe old age. She responded snippily, “Then I hope you die young.”

Hubby lovingly responded: “Too late for that.”

~~~

I was listening with earbuds to one of my new favorite songs, “Trees” by Twenty One Pilots. (Linked to save you the trouble, M.) The last few seconds pretty much enrapture me. I was thus fully engaged when Hubby came over and said something I didn’t hear. I held up a “just a moment” finger, not wanting to interrupt those last few glorious seconds.

Then I felt like a jerk, so I pulled out an earbud to listen to him. “So we only got one egg today? Bummer,” and he walked away.

He thought I was answering his question, which clearly had been, “How many eggs did we get today?”

The answer was indeed one, so I didn’t need to follow up. I put my earbud back in and proceeded to enjoy the next song.

~~~

Rooster Update:

Trying YET AGAIN to get only hens from Chicken Lady seemed like a losing proposition. (How many times did I try swapping out birds with her? I’ve lost count.) So I had decided to take our rooster problem into my own hands, literally.

I started researching “how to butcher chickens.” I even spoke with a friend who had once assisted in the process and Facetimed with my in-laws for more particulars. My plan, after the deed was done, was to write a blog post titled, “How I Solved My Rooster Problem, In Pictures.”

I wouldn’t let the pics be too graphic, but you’d get the idea: A chronology of the rooster’s demise, culminating in a photo of my smiling family sitting around the dining room table with a glistening roasted bird as the centerpiece. Below would be the words: Happy Thanksgiving!

Sure, a chicken isn’t a turkey, but a turkey would be too big for us, and eating our own rooster would be more fulfilling.

Plus, butchering it myself would make me feel like a friggin’ Warrior!

Just when I’d gotten myself pretty well psyched up by my plan, I got a message in response to a long-forgotten craigslist ad. Someone wanted my roosters. I had only listed one, but we discovered two more since then. I let him pick up all three the next day.

The white one in the middle was the crower, which is a shame because that variety, Leghorns, are superlative layers. When they’re girls. Turns out the other white ones were also roosters.

Was I disappointed? Slightly. Relived? Well, given how hard it was to pick up and subdue one of those big heavy birds, and thinking I would manfully string it up to a tree… Probably just as well.

I’m relieved they’re gone, and I no longer have to feed them.

Now I lie in wait to see what the other five birds decide to do: crow or lay. They should’ve started laying by now, so either they’re all boys, or they’re not as old as I was told they were.

I’ll let you know. And in the meantime, I’m keeping Rooster Guy’s number handy.

87 responses »

  1. Well, a warrior lady who listens to music …
    Still, I would have like to have read the other possible post – could have been … err … interesting. Well, glad Sir Craigslist came by to help.
    Maybe you should put a baking dish in the chicken coop and say, “Lay eggs or this will be your new, much hotter, home.”

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Well, isn’t your hubby so clever with the mean comeback?? LOL! Ok, I love Twenty-One Pilots and aren’t they from Columbus? Look at us! Ha! I’m always singing the Saturday song in the shower. Trees does have a great ending!

    And thank you, because now I know where Foghorn Leghorn got his last name!!!! Love it! Have a great Thanksgiving!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I wonder what makes your chicken lady so sure she is giving you hens each time? I know it can be hard to tell but her odds seem worse than if she closed her eyes and pointed. I, for one, am glad that you didn’t have to string the poor bird up to a tree. I’m one of those who prefers to believe that meat comes from the grocery store and anything prior to that didn’t occur.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Honestly, I wonder if I would’ve had it in me when the moment came. I already know I could never go deer hunting, but a chicken is much smaller. Maybe it would be easier? A higher power knew better and intervened, I suspect.

      And, yeah, CL’s odds… She told me she learned from her dad. I wonder if her dad and she have it backwards? She ASSURED me these last five reddish brown ones are hens. We’ll see about that.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Betsy, putting the first two stories together, Hubby deserved the misunderstood answer of one finger after his retort about dying young. At least you did not use the middle one. I will leave your rooster paring strategy to your call. As for dying young, whether it is you or a rooster, Billy Joel once sang “only the good die young,” so you must have a rebellious streak in you, using your Hubby’s barometer of age. Using my barometer as an old fart, you are still a spring chicken. Keith

    Liked by 2 people

    • The ironic thing is, my husband is several years older than me! He was just being funny, and I totally appreciated it. He’s a quick one!

      I knew the whole finger thing could be interpreted a couple of different ways. I was trying to make the wording clear, though I knew I could easily spin off in a new direction with that. I decided to keep it clean. πŸ™‚

      I wonder how old Billy Joel was when he said that. Possibly younger than I am now. I’m older than I look.

      Like

  5. Love your stories!! Hilarious as always! And you know what, I think that rooster thing worked out perfectly. You can ALWAYS say you were willing to butcher one, look like a bad ass and never have to do it! πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    • When I relayed this story to my mom, I told her, “It’s like I was playing chicken (no pun intended) with God. As though I was saying, ‘I’m going to kill them myse-eeelfff.’ So suddenly He was like, ‘Wait! No, I’ll find you a buyer!'” πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  6. hello hello hello hello
    I have never listened to Twenty One Pilots before – I am now listening to them on Spotify … thank you for the introduction!

    You guys are hilarious!!!! He is cheeky!!!
    If the 2nd scenario happened to us, I would have forgotten that he even came over to talk to me …. till much later in the day, or perhaps even several days later!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Love Paul’s comeback! My hubs’ sense of humor is far different from mine (and we are several years apart as well), so needless to say, the quips aren’t as entertaining. And I agree with Wynne, you can say you were “this close” to butchering a rooster, and then Craigslist pardoned him πŸ™‚ Or a higher power. Or both πŸ˜€ I think it’s so weird you keep getting roosters mixed in with the hens, or supposed hens. We always get our chicks from the fleet store, never had a rooster. Do they even have fleet stores where you are?

    I don’t know that I’ve ever heard Twenty One Pilots (I have heard Stone Temple Pilots), but I did pop over to listen (thanks for the link!) Great song.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Paul gets up during the night whenever Joe calls. (I, as the mom, have done my time.) He was relaying how many times he had to wake up recently. I said, “Well, I hope one of these days you don’t wake up.” πŸ˜‰

      I was willing to give the rooster butchering a try, but I wonder if I would’ve said, “Never again,” assuming I could go through with it, or would I have a “Next time will be easier” attitude? Who knows? What do you do with yours when they stop laying? Do you just keep them until they die?

      Stone Temple Pilots was also a good band. Twenty One Pilots has a unique style, that I find surprisingly appealing. Thanks for listening (and, of course, reading)!

      Oh! And we could buy our chicks from the Country Feed Store, but they were about 5 times more expensive. The first time we got chicks, they were from someone on-line, and they were all (four) hens. We thought we’d have the same luck this time, but these chicken people really stink at this. :/

      “Craigslist pardoned him.” Heh! πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

      • Wait, you said WHAT to Paul? I hope that was in the context of letting Joe soothe himself back to sleep ….

        Anyway, Vikes vs the Packers today! Game starts at noon our time–get out that Packer football toy of Joe’s … Wait … I mean, that Vikings toy football πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

        We’ve only had one hen (we got it as an add-on when we got some older hens from someone who was getting rid of them) die of old age. We had another one die from egg binding. Hubs did butcher it and stewed it. And stewed it. And stewed it. And it was still tough. Otherwise, what usually happens is they get sick and die or they decide to make a break for it, and a predator gets them. Or a predator tries to get into the coop for some take out. Not sure how our fleet store prices compare to someone selling chicks at their farm.

        Within the past few months we did lose another hen that got sick. Now we have three that are not all laying every day. I suspect hubs will want to get more in spring. Eggs are great, but too many eggs and no going into the office means LOTS of eggs.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I made that comment to Paul last night to get him back for his “too late for that” comment. He knew I was joking. (But I did also hope he didn’t have to wake up during the night.)

        You have a good memory about that odious football my clueless mother bought for Joe. So, so funny. I was about to say I’ll let Paul know about the game, but, please. He already knows. πŸ™‚ If we ever get together again, I’ll sit back with my latte and let the two of you animatedly discuss your favorite players, games, plays…

        So when the chickens die from illness, do you just… bury them? We sold our last batch when they were nearly done laying. Not sure what we’d do if they otherwise died on us. Our yard’s not that big for burial purposes. But I guess we still could.

        The chickens we bought the first time were $4 each. The second time, $7 each. At the store, I think they’re around $35! It SEEMED like we had made the right decision at the time. :/

        Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, the feed is cost-prohibitive, I’m realizing, so the only real good that comes from this whole adventure is the responsibility the kids learn and the allowance they get for doing the chores. We parents, on the other hand, lose money.

      Like

  8. Your roosters got a reprieve from the governor, so to speak. I look forward to reading about what happens next with the [I hope] laying hens. Happy Thanksgiving, Betsy + family + assorted chickens who are not roosters

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Betsy, I’m laughing at your husband’s response and bet you get him back lots of times too! πŸ˜€ Having slightly dabbled with the thoughts of keeping chickens your post here is making up my mind to stop the mad thought now! Blimey, you were actually prepared to make the chicken a meal – I’m in awe! Glad Craigslist came up with someone to take them! Good luck with the eggs! As for the music, love it!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hubby and I raz each other often. It’s fun. Insulting each other is the definition of love, right? πŸ˜‰ I can’t imagine anyone could have much worse of a time with their chickens than we have, so you might be safe. πŸ˜› Thanks for checking out the song, Annika! I’m glad you enjoyed it. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

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