The New Chicken Steward

Daji the Fox, the newest member of the Masala co-op, has graciously agreed to be the new chicken steward. The details of the stewardship have yet to be worked out, but for now she will be taking on a supervisory role and making sure the chickens basic needs are met. She volunteered to go out back every day and check the perimeter of the coop, just to be sure there aren't any little holes that the chickens might use to escape. "From what I can tell, the perimeter is secure, but if one of you would like to open the door for me, I'll go in and inspect further... to... ah... make sure the chickens are safe." Daji is particularly concerned that predators might get a hold of one, or more of the hens. "If some dastardly creature was able to get in the coop, it would be the end for these plump feathery juicy little birds. All the predator would have to do is dash in, with lightening speed, and sink her sharp teeth deep into the bird's plump... delicious... What was I saying? Oh, yes! It would be a disaster. We must protect the helpless little chickens at all costs!" Daji will give us a report at the next house meeting as to the success of her endeavors.

The Stash

A hidden pile of eggs was unexpectedly found yesterday during a routine search of the coop. One white egg was spotted nestled in the straw on the floor of the coop, behind the leg of the bench, and during its retrieval a total of five white eggs were found. Crystal Meth could be heard moaning in the background, "They stash! The stash! They found the stash!" which only further incriminated the Leghorn, who is known to lay eggs in odd places along with her sister Leghorns (The Knife excepted, of course). The discovery prompted a full-scale raid by BHC officials, who entered the coop later in the day armed with a giant rake and snow shovel. DNA samples, in the form of chicken droppings, along with all lose straw and bits of food were collected and taken to Masala's compost bin, where they will be further analyzed by a team of worm detectives. An undisclosed source said the eggs were probably being hidden from Lee Smith, a notorious egg-pecker, who many of the chickens suspect is actually a human in disguise. The Whig Party, considered to be a key witness, ignored the whole fuss and plopped herself into a hole and gave herself a dirt bath during the raid. When asked to give a statement to BHC officials, she declined comment.

Who's Poopy Now?

MechWarrior still has a poopy butt, much to the delight of Mr. Pants, who spent her formative years being mercilessly teased by the other chickens for that very same condition. Mr. Pants spent the afternoon following MechWarrior around, calling attention to the larger hen's rear quarters. This is a sad case of the bullied becoming a bully. It's amazing what a little taste of power can do to a chicken.

The Best Cubby

The Knife spent a good twenty minutes sitting on Neil Young's head today, while the erstwhile musician attempted to squeeze out her blue egg (in a cubby this time). This cubby, the top left, appears to be a favorite with quite a few of the hens. Penelope was observed later in the day trying to spend some Alone Time in there, when Lee Smith approached and pecked her mercilessly on the head. Eventually Lee Smith snapped Penelope's comb so hard she went tumbling out of the coop. Lee Smith then hopped into the favored cubby and snooped around, probably looking for an egg to eat. Disappointed, she strolled along the perch to make it clear whose territory it was. The Knife hopped up on the perch and was quickly shooed away with a few well-placed pecks to the torso. She flapped away, but not before vowing revenge. The Knife is clearly below Lee Smith in the pecking order, but is quite well respected by the other hens for even attempting to enter the coop after Penelope's awkward displacement. Lee Smith remains unperturbed by any revenge vows, hexes, or stink eyes. "This is my coop, ya hear? I tole you already: I HAVE THE DEED!"

Talk To My Agent

Neil Young laid her blue egg in the middle of the run yesterday. She thinks she can do whatever she wants because she's a rockstar? One of the Leghorns, Rampage!, responded by pecking her on her sideburn, effectively kicking her down a notch in the pecking order. "Not fair," Neil Young clucked. "These Leghorns lay their eggs wherever they want. Every day there's a white egg on the long bench in the coop." The Knife interrupted and said she objected to this unfair generalization of all Leghorns. "I laid my egg in a cubby just this morning. Ask the human if you don't believe me. The unemployed one, the one who is always lurking around here. She saw me do it." The Knife then pecked Neil Young on her other sideburn, causing her to slip even further down the social ladder. "Talk to my agent," Neil Young said as she sulked away. The Leghorns cackled behind her back.

Meet the Folks with the Yolks (redux)

Welcome to the chicken blog of the Masala Co-op. We're a housing co-op (that's short for co-operative, note the hyphen) and in our backyard we have a chicken coop (no hyphen) and inside our coop there is a drama played out daily in which our chickens vie for supremacy in the pecking order. This drama is known as The Chicken Coup (note: the "p" is silent). We're a co-op with a coup inside our coop. Got it? Ok, let's meet the chickens.

MechWarrior

I Am MechWarrior. I'm the biggest Black Star hen in the coop. I am from the Inner Sphere, governed by the Great House Liao. We're known for our manipilative, unstable leaders and great military losses in the interstellar wars of successsion. My feathers aren't as dark as the other Black Star hens because after I do battle, my Elemental Battle Tech armor gets acid washed. One day I will rule this coop with an iron fist. Mark my words.

Lee Smith

I'm Lee Smith. I'm a Black Star hen. I have a masters degree in Physics and you can sometimes catch me in a top hat masquerading as Jonas P. Wilkerson. I flew the coop last year and took off to Hawaii, but now I'm safely back in Masala's yard where I enjoy eating the eggs of my fellow hens. Probably because I have this degree in physics, I'm the only chicken who figured out the ideal beak trajectory necessary to break open an egg in fewer than five pecks. You simply take the square root of the diameter of the egg at its widest point and adjust for variables such as the outside atmospheric pressure and the thickness of the shell based on the calcium intake of the hen in question, then multiply that by the length of the vector between the point of my beak and the meridian of the eggshell. You can easily tell me apart from the other Black Stars because I always wear this orange anklet.

P.S. I have the deed!

Mother Clucker

I'm Mother Clucker (formerly known as Phoenix). I'm a Black Star with a big comb that folds in the front, no anklet, and very black feathers. I'm the most photogenic hen, as you can see, and I'm not just a pretty face, I'm smart too. If you hang a corn cob from the roof I'll probably be the first hen to make the necessary leap (cognitively and literally) to get that corn into my gizzard. And I don't even have a physics degree. I'm street smart.

Bartleby/Pollywollydoodah

I'm a Black Star hen and I think my name is Bartleby. When Cedar comes over to visit, he calls me Pollywollydoodah. I don't really care, because I'm a chicken and I don't respond to the sound of my own name. Sometimes the other hens try to get me to proofread their chicken scratch or rearrange the straw in the cubbies, but I'm like, "Uh, I would prefer not to." I sometimes respond to bribes in the form of food, especially corn cobs and melons cut in half, but mostly I keep to myself. You can tell me apart from the other Black Stars because I have a small comb, no anklet and very black feathers.

Rampage!

I'm Rampage! My full name is Rampage! Baloney Presley. I have the biggest, floppiest comb of all the Leghorns. When I run, which is often, my comb splays out over my face like a jagged piece of balogna. Some people think I look like my cousin Elvis. In my spare time I used to enjoy pecking at and eating styrofoam, but now that the humans have taken it away (grrrr...humans...I mean, squawk... humans) I like to peck at my own poo. I also enjoy laying eggs in inappropriate places.

Mr. Pants

I'm Mr. Pants. I have a big floppy comb that hides my face like a bonnet. I don't like to look you in the eye because I often poop in my pants and it makes me embarrassed. I like to hide under the coop and give myself dirt baths when nobody is watching.

The Knife

Look out! I'm The Knife. I've got a medium-sized comb with uniformly jagged peaks. I'm more likely to let you pick me up than the other Leghorns, but that's probably only so that I can twist myself into your gut. Heh heh.

Crystal Meth

Hi. I'm Crystal Meth. I've got the smallest comb of all the Leghorns and I'm the most addictive. I can run really fast between your legs if you try to catch me. Most photos of me are blurry because I'm that fast. I'm wily and I might escape from the coop when your back is turned. Some of my nicknames are: Ice, Crystal, Glass, Crank, Meth, Shabu, Tik, Piku and YaaBaa.

Neil Young

Hey there. I'm Neil Young (note my distinctive shaggy muttonchop sideburns). I'm a rock star and I lay pale blue eggs. I'm the only hen with a brown body and a black head, and my legs are bluish/gray. I might be an Ameraucana or some variety of Easter Egger, but I'm probably not a true Araucana. I may not be pure bred, but my falsetto tenor drives the groupies wild.

The Whig Party

Hello. I'm The Whig Party. I support the supremacy of congress over the executive branch and I think Andrew Jackson is a dangerous maverick on horseback with a reactionary opposition to the forces of social, economic and moral modernization. In my spare time I like to jump on the backs of other chickens while they're laying eggs and when I get tired of that I corner Deirdre and talk right-wing politics. I'm a Rhode Island Red and I'm fairly uniform in color, with just a bit of white around my ruff.

Deirdre McCluckskey

I'm Deirdre McCluckskey. I'm a transgendered economist extraordinaire with undergraduate and graduate degrees from Harvard University. My latest book, The Bourgeois Virtues: Ethics for an Age of Commerce, is the first of a projected four-volume magnum opus. I'm combs and wattles above the rest of these dumb clucks. You can tell me apart from the other Rhode Island Reds by the distinctive white mottling all down my back.

Old Paint

I'm Old Paint. I stand out from the other Rhode Island Reds because I have beautifully distinctive white feathers in the ruff around my neck. Also, the feathers on my body are darker red than the other hens. I have a small shotgun that I keep in my cubby to ward off the other chickens who might want to eat my eggs. Nobody messes with Old Paint.

Penelope (Penny)

Hi! My name is Penelope. You can call me Penny. I'm a Rhode Island Red and I'm the friendliest of all the chickens. You can pick me up and not worry about getting your eyes pecked out or getting slapped in the face with a wing. You can easily tell me apart from the other Rhode Island Reds because I'm the one that's the lightest, most uniform red. I've got a few small spots of white on my rump and, unlike the other Reds, I don't have any white feathers in the ruff around my neck.

Meet the Folks with the Yolks

Welcome to the chicken blog of the Masala Co-op. We're a housing co-op (that's short for co-operative, note the hyphen) and in our backyard we have a chicken coop (no hyphen) and inside our coop there is a drama played out daily in which our chickens vie for supremacy. This drama is known as the chicken coup (note: the "p" is silent). We're a co-op with a coup inside our coop. Got it? Ok, let's meet the chickens.