As if I didn't have enough to worry about, now I fear that our chickens are becoming sentient.
Yesterday I cleaned out the goat pen in the barn and, since it's not the most exciting job in the world, I brought my little transistor radio and listened to Rush Limbaugh while I was at it. The chickens must have been eavesdropping the whole time.
This morning when I let the chickens out, the rooster clearly squawked the president's name twice. "BARACK! BARACK!" Then one of the hens flapped her left wing. Finally, a third excreted a big glob of chickenshit.
Mere coincidence? I think not.
