Backstabbing Biddies

by admin on November 5, 2009

Today a young country friend asked me a question regarding the nature of chickens. “Do you ever get the feeling that chickens are gossips?,” she asked. “No,” I replied, “Backstabbing biddies is more like it.”

But I knew that was only half the truth about chickens. In our meager farm life experiences, chickens had proven themselves to be the most selfish, greedy, and cannibalistic creatures on two feet. Their barnyard escapades rivaled any episode of “Real Housewives of Atlanta” for sheer drama and ruffled feathers. I was reminded of a particularly noteworthy chicken we owned whose misfortunes epitomized the very nature of the common, domestic chicken.   This begins the saga of NoButt the Chicken…

Poor NoButt earned his name the hard way. For some odd reason he became stuck in one side of a cinder block placed by the barn to prop the stall door open. He could neither go forward nor reverse his direction and there he remained for hours, his fluffy little chickie derriere prominently sticking up from the cinder block. Now this is what a normal, healthy chicken backend looks like…

…nice, clean feathers modestly covering a chicken’s private parts.  By the time we found him and rescued him, NoButt’s posterior region bore no resemblance to anything decent.  The other chickens had plucked every feather from his backside completely denuding him and had then picked his “vent” until it was a raw, bloody mess.  I can’t even post a photo of it lest it elicit a mass fainting hysteria.

So, NoButt became a patient in the Chicken Hospital, recuperating away from the harsh realities of the barnyard.  And while he did recover and live for another five years, he never grew back his feathers thus earning him forever the name of NoButt.

Years later I stumbled across something that could enshrine NoButt forever in the memory of my future grandchildren.  After all, NoButt was an iconic symbol of our farm experiences and he had to memorialized in some appropriate manner.   I decided I would make all my future grandkids NoButt Hats like these…

My daughters have informed me that under no circumstances will I be allowed anywhere near their children with these hats in hand.  But they are going to need Grandma to babysit someday and then I’ll stealthily sneak the hats onto my grandbabies’  heads, take a few pictures, and walk around the neighborhood pushing the stroller with my daughters none the wiser that their kids have been recruited to promote the memory of NoButt.

Long live NoButt!

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