Alright, so here's the story. In our new batch of chickens that we got this year, two of them turned out to be "surprise" roosters. Mars has been no problem and doesn't seem at all interested in challenging people, but Elvis has lately gotten it into his head that he has to fight the big, scary human. I've been very concerned about this, because we already have one rotten roo--Milton--and Elvis is one of my favorite chickens. The idea of him turning rotten just worried me to pieces. So, as soon as Elvis started acting--forgive me--cocky, I started doing the scoop-up-and-carry-around-the-run routine, but no matter how hard I tried, I just could not get him to take any treats from me. I tried tomatoes and I tried melon and I tried apples and greens and all manner of things, but Elvis just turned his beak up at all of it and left me fretting that I would never be able to tame my favorite little roo... Well, today, as I waited for the sun to set and the chickens to put themselves to bed, I strolled over to the gas station to get myself a soda and a bag of my favorite snack--Baked Lays potato chips. While I'm sitting on the tailgate of an old pickup bed, watching the chickens forage, Elvis starts to stroll my way. "Well, hello there, handsome," I say to my roo. "Would you like one?" I hold out the little piece of baked potato chip, and Elvis eyes it suspiciously, tilting his head to one side to examine it from under his impressive mop of feathers. Finally, he takes one cautious little nip, contemplates it a moment, then swallows. The flavor hits him, and in a split second, he transforms from Elvis: Mighty Defender of the Coop, into Elvis: Lydia's best friend forever and ever. I let him have a few more small chips, just to make my message clear--after all, I know chickens aren't supposed to have a lot of salt--but even that small treat was enough to convince Elvis--at least for tonight--that I am not a big scary monster.