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Tuesday, December 13, 2016

My Christmas Miracle

I’ve recently discovered I have a special talent, a gift, some might say.

I’m a chicken whisperer.

Hodor (the paraplegic Pekin chicken who was on death’s door in my last post), is now completely cured of his affliction. 

After his insecticidal bath, canola oil massage and liberal powdering of potent, heavy duty pesticide, he took a mere three days to make a full recovery and has now returned to the coop with his two comrades, Jon Snow and Ygritte. 

Hodor at front trotting around like a healthy little ferret!

He glows fluoro orange in the dark… but that’s alright.

He probably likes the fact we’ve rendered him inedible.

Just think… we were THAT close to euthanising him with a large rock…

It just goes to show. Don’t clout your chickens before they repatch.

Now, clearly if I am indeed a gifted chicken whisperer I should own more chickens, shouldn’t I?

To be honest, the three Pekin chickens we currently own are a bit useless. We were tricked into buying them what with their silly walking style, fluffy cute feet and fat bottoms. They’re merely precious, ornamental, little things that will one day lay eggs the size of marbles, really.

So off to Uncle Tom’s at Nerang I went and forked out on a roomier coop and some larger, smellier, dumb clucks which should start laying decent eggs immediately.

I’ve calculated the dividend I receive in eggs should pay off in about 85 years, give or take.

I’ve never been one to do things by halves; five kids, four dogs… you know what I mean.

Now I own seven chickens.


Joffrey Baratheon

(L-R) Margaery Tyrell, Brienne of Tarth, Theon Greyjoy.

Some people (Scotto) are accusing me of buying chickens as a ruse just so I can give them silly names from my favourite show on the television, Game of Wishbones Thrones.

It’s not true.

As I said, I also bought a new coop so they won’t be staying at Winterfowl with the Starks Pekins. 

I’m thinking of naming my new chickens’ coop, “Casterly Flock”.

Or maybe “The Red Koop”, I haven’t yet decided.

Can you think of something better?

Yours sincerely,

The Mother of Chickens.