Thursday, December 31, 2015


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.

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