Neither humans, nor animals, should be subjected to uniformity or standardization.
My goal was to cleave it between the yolks…
Chicken-keeping injects weirdness into your life. This is a rarely touted benefit.
While combing through the final edit of my next book, drawing out extra words like so many nits, I’m awestruck by the role of idiosyncrasies. Rather than smoothing them out or hammering them down like protruding nails, they should be cultivated to flower. Innate weirdness is key to building a satisfying life. My understanding of this, or, perhaps embrace is more accurate, required four decades.
Normally, I’m up writing long before dawn to work on the book, but today I arose with the sun. (Yesterday’s harvest really took it out of me.) That short video was my first view of the world. This post is equal parts celebration, procrastination, and warm-up exercise.
Postscript: No intent was made to position the fruits of my chickens’ loins into the now-apparent phallic image preceding this. Those abundant healthy fats are charging up neurons and are being incorporated into my DNA at this very moment. A retake is no longer possible.