Chickens. Part 1 of 2534357. The Beginning.

My obsession with chickens is a relatively new development, so it’s not as if I was traumatised by a bucket of KFC when I was a toddler, and until recently I regarded poultry with pretty much the same viewpoint as every other animal-munching person on this planet ie chicken = stupid, often kept in disgustingly small cages, nice seasoned in a sandwich.

I was neither for nor against them, but they had a moderate interest factor purely because they’re farm-related and I fancy myself as a bit of an animal lover. Well, as much as any omnivore can claim to love animals. Colour me a hypocrite if you must, I’ll be over in the Corner Of Shame eating a hot bacon roll.

So this is what happened. This was the turning point. This isn’t, however, the stage at which people started thinking I was a little peculiar. That was a good few decades previously.

It was 4 years ago and I was heavily pregnant and waiting patiently at the bus stop outside the local hospital after a check up. In pregnant woman terms “waiting patiently” involves lots of sighing, a large amount of shifting from one foot to another and a smattering of giving the father of the child the look that says “And you can cut that smile out, cos you’re getting a vasectomy..!” I was grumpy, it was bitterly cold and I’d lost all feeling in my feet. Of course I just assumed I’d lost feeling and they hadn’t just snapped off in some vastly improbable freak accident, but it had been a long time since I’d seen them to verify one way or another.

So there I was, a large round ball of sunshine when I caught sight of them – 2 chickens taking a casual stroll across the car park. I must have been slack-jawed and dribbling because Hubby takes one look at me and then follows my eyeline.

“Chickens!” I exclaimed, not entirely surprisingly.

“Yes.” he said by way of reply.

The chickens continue to stroll in their nonchalant manner across the tarmac like they own the place and taking the odd peck or two at stationary BMWs. There’s silence for 30 seconds or so.

“Chickens !!” I repeat, because he quite obviously doesn’t “get it”.

“….yes….” he says again, giving me that look that says “Oh Lord, the cheese has slid off her cracker again, please please don’t let her cause another scene…”

It occurs to me at this point that he’s not entirely grasping the enormity of what I’m trying to convey… the sheer improbability of feathered livestock jauntily strolling past the pathology department. After a short think, and never once taking my eyes off the duo, I attempt to clarify the situation for him.

“Chickens !!!” Possibly not the best summing-up of a situation in history.

He’d developed that slightly nervous big grin that every man who’s experienced the joy of fatherhood and the exhilaration of a hysterically unpredictable woman in her final weeks of pregnancy will be familiar with. It’s the one that says “Please give me some sort of clue what to say that won’t instantly reduce you to tears and/or physical assault”. I appreciated the effort and tried again.

“There are chickens. In the car park. Of the hospital. In a residential area. Chickens!!!”

“Ahhhhhh!” he says, relieved, “Yes.”


“This is The Netherlands. There are chickens everywhere,” he explains.

The birds are now standing at the bus stop with us, looking like they also are waiting for a number 73 to come along, but alas.. they make no attempt to board once it arrives. It occurs to me that this is possibly because they have no pockets for change, and I watch them as we slowly pull away from the curb on our way home.

So there you have it. That was the Genesis of my chicken obsession. Next time I shall tell you how it bloomed from a tiny seed of strangeness into a sapling of weird.


7 thoughts on “Chickens. Part 1 of 2534357. The Beginning.

  1. Intriguing read! Its funny, but after your second “Chickens!” declaration my thought was this: “Some see burning bushes while others see chickens.” Then I read that this was your Genesis. Too funny! Part 1 down, 2,534,356 parts left to go, lol. I posted something on my own site about chickens, but its not the happiest of pieces… and is a sort of attack on eating chicken. But great write here!

    • Thank you ๐Ÿ™‚ The whole chicken thing totally snowballed and had I not been insanely hormonal it probably wouldn’t have taken on a life of it’s own the way it did lol
      As far as the poultry-munching goes, I’m afraid I’m one of those people who’d dearly love to be a vegetarian but lacks the willpower. I’ve tried it and it just made me grumpy. In the end Hubby begged me to give it up cos I was leeching the will to live from everyone around me ๐Ÿ˜‰ Would be interested to read your post though ๐Ÿ™‚

    • Haha!! I’ve actually read that post before and loved it ๐Ÿ˜€ I’ve subscribed to to save you the trauma of choice. Now you just have the trauma of entertaining me, isn’t that great? ๐Ÿ˜€

  2. i would love some chooks. i’m still trying to figure out how i sneak them past the two drooling mutts at my back door – invisibility cloak? and i saw the hilton hotel of hen houses at the local pet store, a mere 600 aussie dollars.

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