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Sunday, February 2, 2014

The Chicken Whisperer

That's my reputation around the neighborhood.  I have other reputations, too, but some of them I'm forbidden by court injunction to mention.

So how does one go about being a chicken whisperer?  Well, first of all, you need to get a chicken.  Some people think they can do without this step, but they're only fooling themselves.  Oh, sure, a guy like that gets along fine for a while, but pretty soon people notice he's whispering without a chicken around.  You know what they call a chicken whisperer that doesn't have a chicken?  A loony.

Next step is you got to be able to whisper.  Fortunately, this part comes easy for most people, but there are some exceptions.  One guy I know taught his bantams the entire melody of "Don't Worry Be Happy."  He'd misunderstood and was trying to be a Chicken Whistler.  Chicken Whittler is even worse.

Now that you got a chicken and you know how to whisper, you might notice chickens don't have ears!  Well, they do, but they're just kind of hard to find.  The ears are on the head just behind the eyes.  If you're not sure you've found the ear, try this simple test.  Put your lips right up to the head and softly say, "Testing, testing... TESTING!"  If the chicken squawks and tries to get away, you've found the ear.  If not, you're speaking to the wrong body part or else possibly have a deaf chicken.

The secret everyone wants to know is, what do you say to a chicken once you're got its attention?  My neighbors frequently ask, "What the hell are you saying to that chicken?"  Normally I just smile and say, "That's between me and ol' Egg Momma."  But now I'm ready to spill the beans.  First, never tell a chicken about recent movies you've seen or what it's like to drive a car or have opposable thumbs.  These comments will only make the chicken feel unhappy and inadequate.  Your whispers must be something the average chicken can relate to.  Sometimes I just say "buck-buck-bacaw," only very softly.  Other times, I'll say, "Get a load of these squirrels.  They think they own the joint!"   Or I might say, "If you crap on the patio one more time, I have just three little words.  Coq au vin."

I have seen chickens desultory, bedraggled, chickens living lives of quiet desperation, chickens who asked themselves, "What's the point, I mean, what's the damn point of it all."  Chickens who'd reached the end of their rope.  And then, after a few days of whispering, these same chickens would act as if they had a new lease on life, chickens determined to live every second to its fullest.  Chickens who went for the gusto.

That's the magic of Chicken Whispering.

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