Those of you that are friends with me on Facebook will be aware of Tales of the Urban Chickens.
I live in a square in a small town where (apart from one family 3 doors down) I’m the only resident under 60 and my neighbours like to feed me. For real, in this day and age I get spoiled with freshly caught and/or home-smoked fish, cakes and shortbread. It’s an idyllic square to live on apart from the Devil Children *shudder*.
Idyllic, that is, until the arrival of the Urban Chickens next door. I have no idea where they came from. One morning I was lying in bed when I heard the most unbelievablystrangled squawk. It later turned out to be a transgender chicken (a cockerel born in a hen’s body). The strangled squawking went on for several minutes and finally a chorus of other weird and wonderful noises joined in. Wondering what the hell was going on I got up and peered out of my window and there, in the tiny little yard with it’s 12 inch square of grass, was a chicken hutch and six or seven chickens wondering around.
I actually giggled with glee. Honestly, it was a recipe for pure comedy gold…who’d ever heard of a transgender chicken and now there was one living right next door.
Over the course of the next few weeks I posted a few status updates about the strange happenings of the chickens next door but today the strangest happening of all has occurred.
The chickens have mysteriously vanished. Hutch and all.
I have no idea where or even when they went, leaving me to wonder if it was a failed urban experiment, whether the neighbour was in fact chicken-sitting or if they were abducted by some agriculturally minded aliens. I guess we’ll never know….