The Unthinkable

The unthinkable has happened. Yet another hen has met an untimely end. This time it was Deirdre McCluckskey, the last of the Rhode Island Reds. A witness to her final moments had this to say:

"This morning she looked weak. She was breathing heavy and was lying in the dirt in the way back, underneath the coop. She wouldn't come out when I fed them, so I went back and looked in on her this afternoon and found her almost dead. I said to her, 'Who did this to you? Who is the killer?' She mumbled something, too quietly for me to hear, so I leaned in and heard her say, weakly, with her last breath, 'Rosebud.' I was stunned. I mean, I didn't even know she was a fan of Orson Welles, although I guess it makes sense given the film's themes of economics, power and ethics."

The witness sighed, then cast a wary glance in the direction of the six remaining hens before she bundled up Deirdre's body and left the coop. None of the hens made eye contact with her, but busied themselves instead with pecking each other and pooping on the last few remaining patches of clean snow. After the witness was gone, Mech Warrior climbed up to the highest perch and was heard cackling ominously to herself, "House Liao is ascendant!"

Asylum

Not willing to wait around to see who would die next, three enterprising young hens applied for asylum in a coop in Denver. With the help of one of the co-opers, they drafted a plea, although it took some time for their document to be understood. "I can barely read this chicken scratch," Sabrina said. "Why don't you just dictate to me and I'll fill out the forms."

Mr. Pants indicated that previous statements given to a reporter have now endangered her life. She had mentioned illegal activities and hinted that the mafia might be behind all this, and now she's been labeled a stool pigeon. "Can you imagine? To be associated with pigeons? Everyone knows they're filthy birds. The rats of the bird kingdom." Not only is she offended, she lives in fear every moment. "If I wasn't a target before, I certainly am now. Now that they think I'm a snitch. My days are numbered. Please help."

Crystal Meth said that she fears she's likely to die next, not from a pair of cement boots, but from her own addictions. "I was never willing to get treatment before, but all this death has really made me see how precious life is. If you'll allow me in to your sanctuary, I'll follow through with rehab. I'll be a better chicken. I want to live a cleaner life."

Neil Young requested preferential treatment, due to her celebrity status. "I know we like to think we live in an egalitarian society, but given the way the paparazzi behaves, we celebrities sometimes need to be sheltered from the rest of the population." When asked if she was concerned about the deaths in the coop, she looked puzzled. "Deaths? What are you talking about? I'm just trying to get out of this hole. Get with some hens of my own caliber. Anyway, I'm, like, a pacifist. So I would be against that. Against death. I'm anti-war and anti-death and all that." Noticing that she finally had someone paying attention to her, she continued, "As you go through life, you've got to see the valleys as well as the peaks," then she began to ramble about the good old days. "Back then people closed their eyes and listened to music. Today there's a lot of images that go with the music. A lot of music is crap and it's all commercial and the images are all trying to sell the record."

After several tense weeks of waiting and watching their backs, all three chickens were granted asylum and transported to their new home in Denver.

Farewell, Friends

Over the past year, two more hens have followed Penelope to the big coop in the sky. The Whig Party (top) and Old Paint (below) both went toward the light, despite the attempts of this Red Cross worker to resuscitate them with mouth to beak. The rest of the coop was left saddened and more than a bit wary. Rumors abound as to the cause of the deaths, and not a single hen believes the Rhode Island Reds died of natural causes. The coop is well known for its power struggles, attempted coups, and social stratification, and so naturally the gossip has been flying in the henhouse all year.

Neil Young, who as always been a loner, is a likely suspect, although one of the hens dismissed this, saying, "The lone gunman theories are always just a front for a much larger conspiracy. Neil Young didn't do this. Anyway, we all know Neil Young is, like, a pacifist."

Mother Clucker, known for her down-to-earth style is probably the last hen you'd suspect. "But don't you see?" Lee Smith interjected. "It's the perfect cover. She thinks nobody would ever suspect her, so she can just keep smothering us in our sleep." Mother Clucker pecked Lee Smith on the head. "You're one to talk," she responded. "We all know you were a human in your past life. Only a human would do something as evil as this."

A hen, who insisted on anonymity, pointed the finger at Deirdre McCluckskey, as she is the only remaining Rhode Island Red. "Everyone knows you dominate your peer group first, before you make a move on the rest of the chickens. What better way to dominate them than to murder them in their sleep. Deirdre is a stone cold killer. Believe it."

When asked for her take on the situation, Deirdre was appalled that anyone could think that she was to blame. "Don't you see what's happening? Someone is out to rule the coop, and they're terrorizing us with these killings. Everyone knows the Reds are the nicest and the least skittish, that's why we're being targeted. Obviously I'm next! I knew prejudice against gingers ran deep, but I didn't know it would come to this. I go to sleep every night wondering if I'm going to wake up in the morning. Is this corn cob to be my last treat?" She pecked glumly at the kernels still clinging to the cob.

Naturally, the Leghorns (Crystal Meth, The Knife, Rampage!, and Mr. Pants) are suspected of shady business due to their generally antisocial behavior. Mr. Pants tried to distance herself from the other Leghorns, as usual, stating that she never has been involved with the mafia, not as a drug-runner nor in any other capacity. "I can't say the same for these other hens," she added in a huff. "We reap what we sow."

This is the first we've heard of possible mafia infiltration in the coop. We'll keep you updated.

A Sad, Sad Day

It was a sad, sad day last winter when Penelope, the friendliest and most beloved of all the chickens, was found dead in the coop. The humans say she was probably egg-bound, but the chickens themselves have their own theories. The leghorns, known for their lightening speed, said it was her own fault for getting too friendly with the visitors. "She should have run faster when visitors came around. Visitors have germs. Everyone knows this. Especially the little ones with the runny noses." The rest of the hens dismissed this theory, particularly Deirde, who is sort of an expert on theoretical things. "We hens are immune to the various pustulant illnesses that afflict our visitors. No, I suspect something more sinister..." she lowered her voice, "...I think she may have been murdered in her sleep." A hush fell over the coop.

Penelope was taken out into the yard and was given a ceremonial burial. A candle was passed around and words were spoken in honor of Penny's warmth and vivacity. She will be missed most of all by the neighborhood children, as she was the only chicken they were ever able to catch. Even when they picked her up by the wings, she didn't complain. Even when they petted her too hard and made her head twist into funny angles, she always came back for more. She wasn't a real quick learner, but she sure was friendly.

Chicken Birthday Party!

Great fun was had by all at the chickens' birthday party on Easter Sunday. Neighborhood kids came by to pet the hens, and after the kids went home the grown-ups fired up the cotton candy machine and ate airy blobs of sugar until they were all quite sick. There was a chicken race up the driveway, and (not surprisingly) the Leghorn won. They're quick and wily. The Whig Party posed for this photo in her jaunty birthday hat, and said, "If Millard Fillmore could see me now!"

Painting the Roses Red

The chicken coop got a new coat of paint last weekend, and there has been plenty of squawking about it. The leghorns preferred the pure white base coat, and there were murmurs of favoritism from the Rhode Island Reds when the red paint was applied. The Rhode Islands were certainly pleased with the final result, with the exception of Old Paint who clucked that she preferred the previous finish. Only a few chickens were painted in the process.

The Blue Egg Project

Neil Young is proud to announce the arrival of her long awaited Blue Egg Project. Industry insiders predicted its release last October, but that release date was delayed time and time again while the hen went into seclusion. "I'm most creative when I have time to be alone and gather my thoughts. That's when my artistic genius flourishes." Sources say the delay wasn't entirely the artist's fault. They pointed to the production crew that surrounded the hen with their not-so-helpful advice on The Project.

Pre-production snafus dragged on through the snowy months, leading some insiders to declare the project would never see the light of day. Insider tidbits leaked out about the work in progress, including one rumor that The Project had been cursed by a bitter former employee of Young's, but that was denied by the hen's publicist.

After many tantrums, some strong-arming by industry executives, and lots of well wishing by fans, the Blue Egg Project finally hit the shelves in March. Come on down to the Masala co-op and get your copy today!

The New Chicken Steward

A new chicken steward was appointed this week, replacing that shifty Daji the Fox. The new steward promises that he will not leave his post, even for a moment, but will stay fixed in that same spot, scanning the horizon for predators, listening to the sweet sound of chicken clucks and thinking about the meaning of life. All he asks is that we periodically bring him gifts of quinoa and hippie slop stir-fry when he gets hungry. Maybe some popcorn with nutritional yeast on it for a special treat.

Caught Red Pawed

Daji the Fox was removed from her post as chicken steward when a hole was discovered on the far side of the run. It appeared as though a clever animal of some sort moved several of the large rocks that hold down the chicken wire that surrounds the coop before attempting to tunnel under it. When asked how such a breach of security could have happened on her watch, Daji appeared to be full of dismay.

"I'm not sure how this happened. I patrol the perimeter every day, looking for a way in. For a way in that someone else may have been trying to dig, that is, and then to stop them. I just can't believe you found this hole a mere day before it would have been complete... I mean, I can't believe I didn't find this hole and put a stop to this, as would have been required by my job description."

In these hard economic times it may be unlikely that Daji will be hired anywhere else in the near future, given her spotty work history.

"I may just volunteer my time here for a while, until I get my resume together. You know, just keep an eye on things to make up for what happened."

She licked her lips and looked really, really sad, so the co-opers said it would be ok for her to chill for a while in Kalalau until she got a job somewhere else.

"You gotta pay the $90, though," an officious looking co-oper said.

"No problem, but can I, uh, give you an IOU, for now? I'm a little behind on my bills this month."

"Ok, but expect a late charge. And do your own dishes. I don't care if you don't have opposable thumbs."

Bottom of the Brood

broody

adj broodier, broodiest

1. moody; meditative; introspective

2. wishing to sit on or hatch eggs (when hens "go broody" they will stop laying)

brood

v.intr.

1. To sit on or hatch eggs.

2. To hover envelopingly; loom.

3. a. To be deep in thought; meditate.

b. To focus the attention on a subject persistently and moodily; worry:

c. To be depressed.

Neil Young has been broody for quite some time. "Kids these days don't even know who I am," she frequently says to herself (as none of the other hens will talk to her or allow her to eat with them). "I made Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young what it was. Everybody knows that. Without me they would have been just a bunch of ordinary hens, a bunch of None Hit Wonders..."

A nearby hen let out a cluck of protest, but then quickly went back to ignoring the Ameraucana.

"Ok, ok," Neil Young continued, "CSN had two top 40 singles before I joined them and successful solo albums, but where are they now?" Neil looked glumly around the coop and decided not to continue with this train of thought.

She also refuses to lay eggs.

It happened to me, too!

Emboldened by Deirdre's abduction story, MechWarrior stepped forward today with a similar tale, lending credence to what most had dismissed as a wild fabrication.

"It happened a few weeks ago," Mech Warrior said. "This time, they came during the day instead of at night, and snatched me right out of the run. Either the other hens didn't notice, or the aliens had some of those Men In Black wands they waved around to make everyone forget what they'd seen... Come to think of it, both aliens were wearing black!" MechWarrior's agitation noticeably increased as she continued her tale. "They took me into their pod and put me on a cold white examining table, more like a bin actually, with a drain... I shudder to think what the drain was for..."

"Go on, go on!" Deirdre said.

"Then... one of the aliens held be down by the neck... and the other... did things to my... my..." here her voice dropped an octave... "my egghole!"

Deirdre and the others hens gasped.

"I don't know what they were doing back there, but it took them a long time. I tried to escape once, but they captured me again." MechWarrior fluffed up her feathers and stamped around a bit. "They're lucky I wasn't wearing my Power Armor with HarJel. I would've zapped them with my Jump Jets! They should know better than to mess with a MechWarrior from the House of Liao!"

"What happened next?" Deirdre said, egging her on.

"Well, then they took out this weird silver lazer thing, and blasted my rump with it! I was suddenly flushed with heat. And embarrassment. Luckily after that they let me go back home."

Mr. Pants happened to be scratching for worms nearby and looked up at MechWarrior. "Hey, what happened to your poop?"

"What poop?" MechWarrior said.

"That poop stuck to your butt feathers. You've been dragging it around all month."

"Oh, that poop... It's not there anymore? They've taken it! They've taken my poop! It's not just the neighbors wanting it for their compost, now the aliens are after it too." MechWarrior looked bewildered and proud at the same time. She muttered something about DNA samples and cloning, and then got distracted by a corn cob that was thrown into the run.

"Corn! Corn! Corn!" was her final statement on the matter.

Bollyweird Aliens

Deirdre McCluckskey claims she was abducted by aliens last Friday, and her comments caused quite a stir in a coop already shaken by allegations of ghosts and zombies.

"They came in the night and snatched me while I was sleeping," she said. "There were bright lights and strange sounds... and... and... they put me in this little cage and put me on this table... There were aliens with big eyes and even bigger hair and they all gathered around me and... did... strange things..."

A clique of believers gathered around the hen, eager for more details, while some of the other hens were quite skeptical. Dierdre is more known for her right-leaning economic theories than for wild tales of supernatural occurrences (although the two are sometimes synonymous, such as in the case of "trickle-down" economics), but she didn't let the naysayers ruffle her feathers. Although she seemingly lacks the empirical evidence she would need to prove her point (not that this bothers most economists, most notably Alan Greenspan), Deirdre was undeterred in her tale-telling. "There was one alien who said he was going to come again in the night and turn our coop into a frothel and casino! I don't know what that means, but we'd better watch out. Next time they rest of you may not be so lucky. They could beam us all up into the light and... and... probe our egg holes while they do their weird alien dances!"

Lee Smith chuckled to himself in the corner.

MechWarrior looked alarmed.

Haunted Coop

An unexplained event occured last week which led many of the chickens to suspect that perhaps the their coop is haunted.

"It was a dark and stormy night," Mother Clucker began. "We were all lined up on our bench, cozy and warm, when we were awoken by strange sounds coming from the far side of the coop. It was almost like a cluck or a coo, but with a bit of a moan mingled in."

"Like the sound a chicken makes. But not," Bartleby Pollywollydoodah added.

"We listened to these sounds all night, off and on, and were quite unsettled by morning," Mother Clucker continued. "The biggest shock of all came when the door was opened and there, on our bench, were two pale creatures who looked like chickens, but much smaller, and sounded like chickens, but with a most unearthly tinge."

"They bolted when sunlight hit them and raced to the far corner of the run," Lee Smith said. "I'm sure that's empirical evidence that we're dealing with supernatural beings."

"We mobilized ourselves into action!" Mother Clucker proudly boasted. "We're not about to let any little chicken ghosts get up in here and contaminate our food with their ghostly essence. We rallied around the feeder and wouldn't let them near our precious grains."

The leghorns, who most resembled the intruders in color and size, were eager to dominate the smaller creatures whether they were ghosts or not. They managed to get in a few good pecks before one of the humans showed up and whisked the chicken-like beings away.

The leghorns disagree that the beings, who called themselves Gladys and FeatherPants, were ghosts.

"You can't peck a ghost," Rampage! said. "I think what we've got here are zombies. Zombies are well known to frequent these parts. Why, just last year there was a zombie infestation and Kid Chaos had to get 'em all in the brain pan. Probably one of those zombies took a bite out of one of these neighborhood chickens and turned it into a zombie chicken! Zombie Chicken! Zombie Chicken!" Rampage! was quite worked up over her theory, almost enough to go on an actual rampage. Most of the chickens still hold to the ghost theory.

"How did they get into the coop while we were sleeping, smarty-pants?" Mother Clucker said tauntingly. "Zombies can't pass through walls."

"Zombie Chicken! Zombie Chicken!" Rampage said, running around in circles.

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.