Something we should all know. See you all at the Picnic, have a good month. It was jet black with a crimson wattle, and it seemed unaware that it was in New York City. In classic barnyard fashion, it was scratching and pecking and clucking. I looked closer, blinked a few times and shrugged off the apparition.
Birds come and go.
Usually they're pigeons, not chickens, but like other birds, this one had wings and would probably use them. Or so I thought. Two months later it's still there. Not only is it still there, but I'm also feeding it, and it's feeding me, at the rate of five eggs a week. I have made the transition from homeowner to farmer, from food consumer to food producer.