Oh, those cuddly chickens!

Chickens. Comfy symbols of our bucolic past. Reliable source of eggs. Part of the new formula for a more "sustainable" way of life, chickens have caught on among city folk, very often the kind of naive city folk who believe that all problems can be solved in a non-violent manner. I understand that some cities are even revising zoning laws to allow fowl back into the environs of middle class gentlefolk.

Which is fine by me. Who knows, maybe they'll learn a few lessons about Nature -- that in the Real World lambs know better than to lie down with lions.
I am reminded of old Thomas Hobbes (he of Nature, red in tooth and claw) by the experience Dotter is having with the family chickens up in Alaska. She's got a brutal battle going on to establish the pecking order among a gaggle of chickens. And this is just hens, mind you -- not fighting cocks.

Of course, maybe the problem is just the long winter confinement in the hen house. I've never heard LindaG talk about problems with bullies amongst her free-ranging chickens. On the other hand, people are a lot bigger than chickens and perhaps the usual fate of an overly aggressive hen is Sunday fricassee.

Graffiti Links: It's one thing when Tombo discovers graffiti in Prescott's drainage catacombs, but another matter when it shows up on the rocks out in the Dells. Both Rich at the Airstream Chronicles and Jartart at Prescott Area Daily Photo have recently posted pictures of contemporary rock art. Not that it's bad, just that it somehow seems inappropriate!

Yet More Graffiti: Hoarded Ordinaries illustrates today's blog about writing with pix from Modica Way in Cambridge MA. This cool wall is set aside by the municipality specifically for graffiti art, which is continuously in flux!

The Rest of the Chickens

Surely you didn't think that all those chickens I posted last night brought an end to my poultry posts, did you? Our county fair had other ways to celebrate the national foul. Starting with the cloth, above, which covered one of the tables in the animal house.

Chickens were in evidence in the exhibit hall, too. This papier-mache critter was part of the big elementary school art show at the fair.

The quilt, above, was a blue ribbon prize winner. Neat roosters, aren't they.

Yes, there were also paintings and photographs on display.

As for this quiltish rooster, he was the creation of another of the school artists. High school, BTW.

Bloggy Business: sheoflittlebrain has handed me this award:


It seems I have made her smile on occasion. I hope frequently! And my instructions were to pass the award along to others who have made my day a happier one. Here goes with a partial list; several I might have included were already nominated by she:

* Right back to The One Acre Wood
* Desert Cat
* Albuquerque Daily Photo
* ksquest
* Not Dead Yet
* SmilenSigh
* Olivia in Germany
* The Lazy Artist
* Escaping Suburbia
* Foolsewoode

County Fair: Chickens Galore

I'd be willing to bet that a big percentage of visitors to the county fair are there for the thrill of the rides. But there probably wouldn't be a fair if it weren't for farmers and the products of the land.

A good third of the space over at our new fairgrounds was devoted to the animals -- big and small. Here, a focus on the small. Chickens, to be specific. And as an honor to Little Sir Galahad, the gallant Mille Fleur bantam rooster who resides at The One Acre Wood.

As a townie, raised neither on the farm nor in the big city, I'm pretty naive about such matters. The critter above, for example, along with his red brethren, is what a Real Chicken looks like in my mind.

Oops! How wrong I have been all these years. A university down in OZ offers this handy dandy chart of the varieties of chook, as the Aussies call this species of foul.

Visits to the One Acre Wood and, now, the Yavapai County Fair, have certainly improved my education re: barnyard denizens. What a wonderful variety I've become acquainted with, if ever so briefly.

Of course, along with chickens go the eggs. There appears to be a second prize-winner (red ribbon) in this batch.

A beautiful tail! What better way end to this short tale.

The City Chicken

If I can't afford one of those junkyard horses below -- or an Iron Springs Road brontosaurus, maybe a chicken? I kinda like the metal critter above. A real Cortez Street find, that is.

Here's another collectible shop chicken, but certainly not big enough or bright enough for the side yard. I still like the top guy. You don't see many decorative yard chickens; somehow, gallus gallus simply isn't in the same league with Granny Goose in the competition for cute and cozy in the lawn ornament or country kitchen department.

In my walks around the town's alleys, by the way, I've come across the real thing (above.) I presume these birds belong to folks who eat a lot of eggs. And I recall that the sustainable city living chap over on Dameron talked about keeping chickens on a city lot. Legal? Not a matter for the Zoning Gestapo? You can see that I suffer from Big City Think, in which the domestic fowl is definitely a no-no for righteous, status conscious city or suburban dwellers. This is a different world. Here I have laid back friends who live in a settled county enclave on the west end of town; their pet chickens are an amazing collection of specialty breeds, the likes of which I've never seen in my sheltered life. Maybe one of these days I can take a few pictures.