Brainstorming, thinking, thunking call it what you will, Iv’e done some about my Hens.
Surely no one can be self sufficient without them for eggs, but the taste of chicken, especially organic wow!! But I am worried. I’m not your casual murder type, don’t get me wrong, you strangle it I’ll eat it. New born lambs gamboling around in a field make me drool in a sinful sort of carnivorous way, mmmmmint sauce. But I would never stop the car when out with Gran in the country and run across the field and nip one on the back of the neck. Chickens for the table however, on a small holding it’s pretty much like that. There she is bless her ‘Doreen’ the hen you raised from a chick nibbling blissfully on a cob….AND yank!!! out by the neck and throttled. How could I live with my shame the other hens might see me. Of course hunger will do strange things to a carnivore, so you quickly figure don’t cut of the yummy meat supply but find a way of dealing with this problem. Broken down it is a problem of identity, and personal guilt and the answer is obvious. Some kind of disguise is in order. I’m torn between Blade or Darth Vader.
Suddenly a whole realm of possibilities opens up for me, Its not me it’s Lord Vader. “You’ve hidden your eggs from me for the last time Doreen, now you must pay”.Unfortunately your now providing chicken sandwiches for two. And it wont be long before I’m slashing at the hens with a knife from behind a shower curtain.
I think this is my destiny, and I’ll tell you why. I was once walking towards a small village called Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire it was one of those countrified roads tree lined, lots of cars but rarely pedestrians as there is no housing or shops nearby . A section of the road is reasonably straight and you can see for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Normally all you can see is cars but on this particular day I could see a guy wearing a sandwhich-board thingy coming towards me. Within a hundred yards I could see it was a religious hell and damnation notice,’ make way the coming of the Lord’ type declaration. So there we are walking toward each other two human beings in the space between villages. I can’t ignore him he is taking up two thirds of the path. “Good morning” I said in a cheery non threatening way just as he drew level with me, “F*** OFF came his reply. You see he knew, he could see into my black heart, he could sense the deaths of Doreen that guy who looks at me funny and that damned postman who throws post through the half open door in the summer and makes me grovel around on the floor picking them up. SHHH FURRRRRRR, SHHH FURRRRRR, SHHH FURRRRRR anyone fancy a boiled egg?
Hi Loz
Ha Ha ! See You Friday !!
Please do publish any of this stuff in yer blogg.. but .. on reading the blog . pictures were drawn upon my mind.
Cruil .. yes .. but not without … humours.
I can just see it now, upon a cold winters evening , the wind howling outside & the flakes gathering greater height about window & doors.
Covering the world beyond , in an un navigable blanket of ice and snow.
A multitude of hoofs , paws, trotters and webbed feet seek sanctuary in the safety ? and warmth of the masters home ?
Wiggling their many appendages in the warmth of the hearth. Their backs Silhouetted against the roaring flames of the fire.
Sounds like animal farm , but who bunks with the pigs ??
Worse still , how to quell the evil thoughts and slobbering lips of the carnivores amongst the throng ?? That goose warming by the fire
is no friend now summer is past , fatted in orchard and field, but slowly toasting till done !
Those tell tale , hitherto hidden sideways glances ?? at the pig & lamb ? Darths light sabre would carve all very well indeed.?? shuzzzzz
The chickens, no fools ! they know the fate of poultry !! retreat to the relative safety of the high rafters. Safe for now at least.
How tested would friendships be amongst this happy ? throng ?? Would nerves fail at the clatter of gravy jug ? while ” just ” removing mugs to make
hot co coa for all ?? How many would still be round the fire at winters end ?? Would the master 2 dogs and the cat be the sole survivors ?
Would the cat succumb to the wok and hoy sin sauce ? After all mans best friend is DOG !………. not cat ???
Ponder these thoughts and yes this scene , and write further upon this……………and take note weary traveller …………beware – would be small holder..
I hope you are getting this stuff down ? and include it in yer blogg , under the memoirs of trapper and surviving the winter of 98??
c-m on you should be able to roll with this one & pen out & elaborate into a page worth or two. It raises all kind of moral dilemmas for the small holder.
Orwellian in same aspects and yes illuminates the reader to the darker side of animal husbandry. Yes the dark side , Vader too once picked apples in sun blessed orchards as an innocent child. Now the apples fatten goose and pig alike and the gravy boat awaits them in their untimely fate .
Shuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
??????
Joe Brown