I always thought dogs were the only pets. Dogs are furry and cute, come when called (ok mine comes only there is a treat in my hand), cuddle up with you (if you can ignore the bad breath).....and I own 2 of them. ....I was living my childhood dream of a beautiful house with 2 dogs at the hearth.My pet world was complete.Till I saw backyard hens at Amol's cousins place......Now I wouldnot rest till I owned a few.
Amol as usual came up with all the reasons not to have them....very reasonable ones too...but I badgered on unreasonably... and Voila
9 months later(gestation period from idea to a real coup full of chicks) I had 5 pet Chicks-1 boy and 3+1 girls.The plus 1 was a Fancy breed of chick...shiny black plumage with a crown ...small and cute She was the avian equivalent of my cocker spaniel, Boomer. Others were of the Vanraj breed ,run of the mill ,birds next door, plain looks. Bird contemperory of my Pariah dog. For the business of egg laying .
We did not name them just in case our poultry experiment failed then the neighbourhood "Friends Chicken Centre" facilitated final destinaion, Biryani would have to be their eventual fate.
They were 11 weeker chicks, shy,demure little birdies,happy to feed off my palms and live off my kitchen waste. My fledgling kitchen garden started to thrive on their little pellets. I patted myself on the back. I was going to win the local best organic kitchen award.....well in my dreams
Weeks turned to months and same demure, shy chicks turned to a one rowdy rooster and 4 voracious indiscrimnate chlorophyll chomping hens.They churned out a lot of nitrogenous, nutrient rich chicken shit but I had no surviving plants. Just bare stumps stood till their eye level. Neem and aloe vera were not spared.Chicken proofing with thorny hedges had me nursing my curious, dumb dog's cut lips and paws.My google taught green fingers slowly burnt brown.I still had my trees, I consoled myself.
The rowdy rooster turned out to be a threat by himself.My son addresses him aptly as The Terrorist. He attacks for no reason, without provocation,unannouced,across all species,age and gender and always succeeds in drawing blood.My maid is so scared that she has stopped using the backyard mori for washing. No one dares to walk in the backyard without adequate arms and ammunition.One day he had me cornered,disarmed and severely traumatised. My squeals of terror had my neighbours worried for a couple of minutes.And now narrated for a lifetime as a cocktail anecdote, in different versions,depending on how nasty one intends to be. His terror reigns supreme.
To elaborate with an example
How does one get curry leaves from Modakam garden which is 10 feet from the kitchen door?
step 1. Refuse to do it. If she doesdnot want it that bad ,she will use a substitute.
step 2.Reluctantly amble towars the door. If the need is urgent, she will skip the step.
step 3.Open the door, scan from right to left, left to right, and again right to left. Terrorist can fly
step 4.Grab a stick, or pointed instrument that can withstand a 300 newton attack. He fluffs himself 3 times bigger during the aerial attack
step 5. Pluck the closest greens from the curry tree location. and run back for your life
step 6. Shut the door tight and refuse to do anything more for the day as level 6 task is already done
The result-
My tadka is burnt 9/10 times.
I have sauteed with mogra leaves as the creeper was entwined in the curry leaf plant and was picked and cooked in a hurry
The curry leaf plant was cut in half once so that the task doesnot have to be repeated daily
Once Adi flung his slipper at him in self defence. The terrorist pooped on it in spite. He is there every morning at my kitchen door for his "hafta". After collecting his dues he shits in the middle of the doorway to reiterate that he is the One. I quietly clean after him......a silent victim of this domestic pet abuse. Well I wanted him in the first place
BUT the Terrorist sings a different tune with the other ONE
Besides crowing every morning at dawn. He crows when Amol gets back from work. He crows when Amol gets home late at night after a hospital visit. . He crows when Amol get up for a midnight binge snacking. He attacks him but more of a playful loving peck .He follows Amol with his wives all around the garden. Typical English chicken farm scene in the morning every day
Sometimes I suspect that Amol has this chip embedded in the rooster just to get back at us . Maybe I can sell this theory as a plot for a sci fi thriller
And finally our Fiesty Fancy. She is the typical dumb chick. She is small, cute and dumb. She is scared of her own footsteps.She runs straight into an open door and collides head on...always. She is always bullied by all and sundry. Even the lizard had her jump out of her skin.Once she jumped into the electrified security barricaded military zone. As much I reasoned with the Faujis I was not allowed access to look for her. She found her way back home 2 hours late and stress laid an egg.
Somelitimes she just sticks herself flat by the wall that she looks like an airborne tattered black polythene bag
This is her on 300 days a year. Twice a year she develops strong maternal instincts.She grabs all the other girls eggs , gathers under her XS size wings and dares anyone to come next to her. She goes without food or water during this surrogacy driven frenzy.
Once we let her hatch a batch and out came 7 cute little baby chicks. They would climb all over us , have titibits off our dining table , much to Amol's chagrin. One busy day that we had left the chicks in the open and Smokey , my paraiah had a field day hunting all of them . Smokey was so proud of his hunt,smiling ear to ear, laid out his kill neatly like in Master Chef Australia. I cried out loud and so hard that day , that I swore to no more hatching .
Fancy did not hear or care for my cries. She continues her madness. "A little black hen possessed by maternal insticts lifts a car" maybe a local daily headline. I wouldnot be surprised .
I will elaborate that with an example too
We had work happening in the garden. "Save garden from poultry" A truck full of tiles and barricades was being delivered. Fancy just sqwacked and flew real high. The CCTV did not add any more information.She was gone .Poof ...just like that. Like always we thought she would come back We assumed she had gone in the truck, feared that she made someones meal.After 5 days I had dropped from intense grade mourning to background mourning ( the kind for all the chronic losses till now) and My Fiesty Fancy crawled from under a pile of stacked kadappa stones with just a feather bruised.
This time she stress poooped on my hands and it is the warmest thing I have experienced as a pet mom.
My girls and the crazy boy feathered pets have their own quirks but the joy of sitting with a bowl of grain and watching them peck around me is unparalleled. Worth all the winning titles in gardening and a garden full of greens and peace.
