Stephen Kahn

The Nazi-Hen from Hell

In Good news, Humor on April 13, 2011 at 5:26 pm

Once we had four baby chickens. One failed to thrive. The others pecked it. My wife said, “It’s not going to make it. The longer we wait, the harder it will be.”

My wife handed me a knife. I chopped off the chick’s head. My wife wept. The other three thrived and were named Little Peep, Moll, and Big Mama. They all lay eggs on a regular basis, and work very hard digging and scratching and pecking. Mama don’t allow any lazy chickens around here.

When they were small, it was easy for me to tell them apart. Big Mama was biggest and at the top of the pecking order. Moll was pecky. Sharon (our neighbor) said Moll was just trying to get our attention, but as a person with a lot of attitude, I could tell Moll has a lot of attitude. Before and after she lays an egg, Moll makes a big speech about the matter. “What a fine hen am I!” Moll tells the world.

We worried about Little Peep. She was the smallest, and the others pecked her, so it was obvious that she lives at the bottom of the pecking order. However, she was the most carnivorous and the fastest to spot and grab and eat a sow bug, beetle, earth worm or other creature down the food chain. She was also the least “flocky” of the flock, often wandering away from the other two.

Now that they are grown up, I can’t really tell them apart any more, but my wife says she can. She goes into fine details of their combs and coloring, which I immediately forget. Yesterday, I presented them with three 5-yecch! slugs (as part of my effort to train chickens to eat slugs like ducks do). One of the chickens picked up a slug, shook it around vigorously, and gulped it down, the same way I have seen people gulp a shot of whiskey. She didn’t even need any bribe of oat flakes to encourage her.

Then she spotted something running and dashed over to grab it in her beak. The other chickens dashed after her to try and grab it from her. She dashed away with the others in pursuit. I realized she had caught a mouse. She shook it vigorously and pecked it. I tossed some oats to the other chickens to distract them, so the killer Nazi chicken from Hell could enjoy her prey in peace. I don’t know if she consumed the mouse, but she soon joined the other chickens so she would not miss out on the oat flake candy  treat.

I don’t know if the mouse-killing chicken is Little Peep. I expect her to get a rat tomorrow, a raccoon the day after that, and by the end of the week to take out an eagle and a coyote. Of course, by then it will only be a matter of time …

  1. Little Peep, it seems, could not be less aptly named. 🙂

  2. In aboriginal tribes people often name children after some childish trait such as Tashunka Witko (Crazy Horse) or Wahchintonka (Patient). As they grow up, Crazy Horse may turn out to be the most sensible man in the tribe and Patient may turn out to be hyperactive.

    These are Sioux Indian names, by the way, and Crazy Horse really was crazy and a great warrior and an ancestor of my neighbor Craig.

    Our granddaughter, Anne Elise, might be named She Who Hates Food and Won’t Eat, but may turn out to be a great chef and the next Julia Child. So Little Peep, the smallest and shyest of the chicks, may yet peck Big Mama and Moll into submission and become top of the pecking order.

  3. I named my youngest after an ingredient in beer. Uh-oh.

  4. As I said, he is named after an ingredient in beer. 🙂

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