Back in the 90’s, I saw the Indigo Girls live several times. I knew and loved almost all of their songs, a glaring exception being one that they insisted on jamming out to for an extended version at every concert. I’m not sure exactly what it was about “Chicken Man” that rubbed me the wrong way, but it did. Fast forward a couple decades, and here I am: married to a real, live chicken man.
If you’ve followed our adventures at all or know us in real life, you’re aware of the running joke about Bryon talking about chickens all the time. Planning, breeding clans, incubation, housing, feed math, and so forth. But the thing is— lately people have been seeking Bryon out to talk about chickens and other poultry. A woman who bought chicks from us texts him regularly with pictures and requests for advice. Another woman who bought hatching eggs has also sought guidance. A co-worker of his likes to discuss quails and chickens while they work and through texts. It’s happening so much, we’re trying to figure out a model to charge for his expertise.
Then there was a recent dinner with friends, where Bryon was sitting off to the side with another chicken farmer. I heard them discussing: you guessed it. We decided they should start a podcast called “Chicken Shit” and would have all of 3-4 listeners. In reality, they would probably have more, because many people who keep chickens tend to go all in on the subject, devouring as much information as possible.
In the meantime, this has reminded me that we also toyed with the idea of creating a gift book or maybe a zine with my chicken poetry and Bryon’s illustrations.
Here’s a little sample:
Shoo, Roo!
The rooster puffs up to release a loud crow,
though the morning sun hasn’t yet shone.
He beats the alarm by an hour or so;
and you roll over and let out a groan.
