Fowl murder

There's a horrid story in today's Reno Gazette-Journal: Raising chickens in your back yard.

Written by Master Gardener Melody Hefner, it makes the project sound like sooo much fun!

However ... chickens are living creatures, with brains (sort of), and needs. And they require work, work, work!

Irresponsible doesn't begin to cover the failings of Mz. Hefner and the RGJ in publishing this story.

I speak from experience; Grammie and Grampa Al had chickens at their home, a couple blocks from my home. Starting when I was 7 or so, I was expected, on most weekends, to gather eggs from the henhouse, help Grampa Al clean up the pen and aid in other chores.

It was not easy, and it was not fun.

Farm animals are a 24/7 job. And roosters are mean, vicious, fast little buggers. Although, the rooster that ripped out my thumbnail did taste pretty good the next night, served with sourdough dressing and gravy.

Here's what's going to happen: Some yahoo will buy two dozen chicks, which will starve to death once Mr. Yahoo gets tired of the novelty. Mrs. Yahoo will get sick and tired of cleaning bugs out of the house. The Yahoo children will be frustrated once they discover that chickens aren't puppies or kittens ... farm birds don't play well with others.

The birds' lives will end in pain.

And the wonderful folk at the RGJ will be co-conspirators.

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