Tales of the Urban Chickens

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….

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