My family has chickens. Currently we have something like 9. It's hard to know because I haven't gone out and counted and because we've had a lot of upheaval this year: we had 12 then lost one from hypothermia then lost 3 in a fox attack then had 1 get aggressive so we gave her away to a friend got something like 5 more to try to fill out the flock, realized 3 were roosters and snuffed 2 of those.
Good Lord, this seems like an elementary math question. "If Poopface has 12 chickens then......[snip] how many is this fool left with?"
Anyway, I think that's where we are, but in this house I'm never completely certain this isn't some sort of odd drug experiment being performed on me.
So that brings us to today.
I was relating a story to my youngest two kids this morning of how we nearly snuffed our last rooster (Wifey was hoping he wouldn't crow much because she really likes "Handsome Rob") last night when he started going ape「dookie」 around 11:30 and were concerned the neighbors would go into open revolt.
My daughter said, "actually, our friend at school trained her chickens to know their names, to come, to sit......."
I live in a crazy house.
It's things like this that kept me out of the really good schools.