Elvis has left the building

A girlfriend of mine left the state last summer, headed for, literally, greener pastures in California. She now lives with her family on a farm in a very rural area. She already had goats but now she’s added chickens to the mix.

Her kids were involved with the care and keeping of the goats, even entering (and winning) at the AK state fair. So, I assume she was expecting similar family fun when it came to her fine feathered friends. This probably would have been the case with her flock of seven chickens – if said chickens would have all been female, as she was told they were. Turns out, three of the seven were boy chickens. Apparently, in chicken-rearing, it’s vitally important to have a ratio of more like one male to 20 or so females. And when that ratio is off-balance, oh boy. Stand back.

As my friend soon discovered, the male-female ratio can cause pretty big problems. Namely, the males get cranky. She complained about her situation to a friend. He made the following offer: “If you don’t mind what happens to them, I could take care of the situation for you.” She said she’d think about it. Fast forward a few days and a few incidents later. The main trouble making male – Elvis – had not only pecked at her legs, but also flew up and scratched her son in the face. Enough was enough. She called in her friend who took care of the problem.

A week or so later, her friend approached her at church with a freezer bag, “Turns out Elvis was mostly dark meat.” Elvis is now in the deep freeze.

I’d like to say the story was different for the other two males and that they learned their lesson. But, boys will be boys. Big Sam and Mickey were on their way to a new pen in the sky. Big Sam made it to the dinner table. But, Mickey wasn’t big enough. His scrawny stature led him to a neighbor’s home. (I think that’s called Witness Protection…)

Maybe it’s the names, or the way she “had a guy” who “took care” of the situation, but something about this screams Vegas mafia. Is it just me?

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