Strut chicken-like.
Hold your hands to your puffed up chest, chin out and nodding back and forth, and flap your arms. Cluck and sqawk. (No black and white gooey spots, please.)
May 14 is Dance Like a Chicken Day. I’ve sometimes suggested, “Stand on yer head and squawk like a chicken.” This is different. Strut.
Chickens don’t get no respect. When robins or other birds in the backyard leap from the water bowl as we come out, we mutter “the ‘C’ word” (chicken). Are they offended? Who knows? They take flight.
Do chickens take offense at this niggardly typecast? Sqawk! Chickens aren’t chicken. They take it in stride. Chickens are people too, ya know. But chickens don’t get no respect.
We give some chickens free range. Then it’s two, sunny side up or over medium. (With bacon and green, of course.) Or salad, barbecued, roasted, fried, or soup. Or how about green chile enchiladas? Steaks can be chicken wannabes. Chickens: food for thought.
Chickens are ever there. They’re the closest living relatives of T. Rex. They’re, relatively speaking, the duck tape of birds.
Why did the chicken cross the road? To go where no chicken has gone before.
Dance Like a Chicken!