I have not been “riled up” about anything lately, so my writing has slowed a bit. I used to watch Fox News (back when Costa Rica cable TV carried it) and that always provided fodder for my rants against the establishment quo (one of my favorite themes….railing against “the man”). But no more Fox these days. Actually I have been on a news watching hiatus and just enjoying my life here in PZ (Perez Zeledon) without really getting too riled up about anything, except Lily’s constant complaints about the heat.
That brings me to the subject of this morning’s post….you guessed it….chickens. Lily wanted a gallinero, or chicken house, in the back yard and being the dutiful and sustainably minded spouse that I am, I accommodated the request. We now have 4 great big fat “ponedoras.” For you non-Spanish speaking city slickers out there, a ponedora is a chicken that “puts out.” Eggs, that is. We gather 4 per day and with a household of 4 people, that equates, wait, let me do the math, to 1 per person per day. Of course, lately I have been on the “slow-carb” diet, so my breakfasts generally consist of 3 scrambled eggs, but, then again, I am “the man” of this house.
I never had chickens before. Dogs yes, a cat once, and a few rodents here and there (I believe I once also had a turtle), but never chickens. They are curious creatures. After they are finished putting out, we lock up “el asesino” (Dokie, our little “zaguate” that is a cross between a dachshund and a doberman….seriously), and let the chickens roam the backyard (giving full meaning to the term “yard-bird”). We have only named too of them and even then I can’t really tell them apart. One Lily named Dorothy (no idea why) and the other I named Dora (as in Dora la Exploradora) because while the other three tend to stay together, Dora is always off somewhere pecking at everything and trying to figure out the general meaning of life as a chicken. They really seem to crave human interaction. Someone told me that chickens only have a memory of 15 minutes. I disagree based on the fond looks I get every morning when I enter their living quarters to feed and water them.
One thing is for sure, having chickens has given me new-found respect for eating them, both them (as in KFC) and their eggs. It is like those celebrities that claim they only eat the meat they kill themselves (didn’t Zuckerberg recently make that vow?). I couldn’t imagine chasing Dora, or Dorothy, down, grabbing her by the neck and whipping her around like I used to do a wet towel before zapping it against the backside of an unsuspecting friend (or foe). Oh, the horror. Eating KFC will never be the same again. And I will never eat a store-bought egg again, if I can avoid it.
Wow, writing this piece this morning didn’t feel like a chore at all….it was fun. Thank you Dorothy and Dora (as well as the 2 anonymous ones) for the inspiration!
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Costa Rica Waterfalls • Package Costa Rica
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