Cooking eggs

Cooking eggs

Stephen Fry was boiling mad, he had a suspicion that his neighbour had poached one of his chickens. At first he thought his favourite Sussex White had dropped off the perch or flown the coop but then realised that it had scrambled over the newly installed chicken wire barrier, quite easy over unfortunately, tempted by a sneaky sight of George’s meal worms no doubt.

George Coddle had said for some time that he wanted to get some chickens of his own but Steve had thought he was just yolking as he was always laughing, sunny side up all the time, so keeping white where his skin had never been in the sun. Some of his jokes cracked Steve up, he particularly the one about the philosopher who was asked,

 ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’

‘I look forward to the day when all creatures on this earth are allowed to make their own decisions without having to justify them to anyone’  answered  Dr Bertie Rooster authoritatively.

‘His chickens will come home to roost one day’ thought Stephen darkly. ‘I’ll clip his wings’

Today was the day he had to shell out some cash to get another sack of layers pellets. It was only chicken feed to a man of his resources but, as they had recently stopped laying the eggs he valued so much for his breakfast – he thought they were probably going through the henopause – he begrudged feeding them with no return so he kept his hens cooped up all day to restrict their exercise and so stop them being so hungry.

He walked out to the run with a bucket full of the new pellets and counted his chooks after opening the hatch, he hoped that was in the right order. With the Sussex gone, a new pecking order had to be established with Steve as top dog – where did that dogma come from? He tried the monkey method of establishing dominance, by grooming them using his newly aquired cock’s comb.

            ‘This should work with a bit of cluck’ he thought.

He cleaned all the hen’s teeth, which didn’t take long but he liked to keep them up to scratch.

Stephen then walked back to his house and went to bed in a fowl mood.