Just back from a cocktail party of the sort I hate, but have to attend sometimes, to keep things running on an even keel in this town. The idea of having to get all tarted up, after cleaning out sleeping coops in this heat did not appeal, so I was less prone than usual to suffer fools.
Word has it that I have CHICKENS...again ! "We thought you had out grown that ." Really ? At 66 ? Since I had spent 3 hours upside down in a dentist's chair, while my 82 year old dentist worked his magic , and repaired a molar split in two yesterday, and still resembled one of Alvin's relatives, I may have been just a tad short of patience.
I pointed out that Mrs. Marion Du Pont Scott, one of the principal benefactors of this town, had fighting cocks until the day she died. No, I don't fight my chickens. I breed them for showing, and as breeding stock for future generations." "Why ?"
If we do not keep the gene pool going of the old breeds, in a relatively pure breeding true form, where will future generations go for breeding stock to keep people in Chicken McNuggets, or those tasty chicken wings? That they understood.
"Breeding good birds is an art form"; they did not understand."I've been to the fair, and all the chickens look alike, and a bit scruffy. They don't smell nice either ." I replied that I expected none of them would smell nice, having been cooped up in an 8 x 8' foot room for 10 days with no shower, or toilet. Food for thought there. You could see the light bulbs go off.
The end result is that I have a bunch of people, who would never go to a poultry show, coming to see my Buff Orps. They are curious now. This is what will keep our fancy alive in the midst of all the new laws and regulations being passed. I must speak to the gang, and tell them that those cute, painted toes are off limits though.
Take an old biddy to lunch, and keep our fancy safe.