Omar’s Chicken: another distraction from art making.

I have a neighbor, a young Hispanic man, Omar. Omar has a few chickens in the back of his trailer. Most of these chickens are run of the mill, ordinary chickens.

One day, a couple of Omar’s chickens got out. They really like to perch on my back fence. Most of these chickens are yellow yard birds with no real distinguishing characteristics or marks. Chickenitza stands out as the only white chicken with a demonic gleam in her fowl eye. One can see the unholy intelligence of that bird when it looks at you, sizing a person up. That  beady, steely eye seems to cut right to the core of the unlucky person in the chicken’s sight. At that moment, one can see the long ago velociraptor lurking  in that bird’s DNA.  She’s a big white chicken, with feathers that fluff out all over the place, making her look even bigger than she is; she’s big already!

Even the rooster walks softly around that hen.

Perched on the fence

We have a bar that’s directly at the back of our trailer park, with a smoking lounge that is the bane of my life. I get cigarette smoke in my place, which I’m very allergic to. They are screaming and hooting all the way til 2:30 am.  We don’t have an amicable relationship, we coexist in prickly tolerance that has occasional eruptions of mild hostility.

Apparently, they bother the chickens, too.

Omar was able to catch all but one; that mean hen from here on to be known as Chickenitza; the diabolical hen from Hell.  Omar’s chicken got inside the smoking lounge of the bar next door, the P*** F******; not hard to do, as it was built to just fit the letter of the law regarding smoking, and not one bit better than they could get away with ( I see this as karma, delivered on the wing).

Chickenitza got in there and left proof of her disapproval. The P*** F****** had to shut the lounge down and have it professionally cleaned. It seemed that a chicken of gargantuan size had gotten in there and painted the lounge in an intense shade of chickens*&t; grey, yellow and white.

All over the floor, the tables, the chairs, no place was left untouched by that angry chicken, including the walls!  Apparently, even the funky umbrellas in the center of the tables weren’t left out! The owner, an interesting fellow, got was not happy, Omar told me. I can’t say I was sorry for the guy; I got a full night’s sleep because that lounge was unusable for that night and most of the next day. My empathy was for Omar who had to endure the wrath of the owner.

I want to bake Chickenitza some nice grub cookies, to express my gratitude for a full and good night’s sleep.

Hey, I’ve already admitted I’m biased. Don’t expect too much from me.

We have a Rotten Retriever we call Riley. He’s a mix, we think, of Rottweiler and Golden Retriever. We know the retriever for sure, and we guess at the Rottie part. He’s a sweet, big galoot of a dog. Loving, and with a tongue a mile wide. He’s got some anxiety issues, but they are getting better. At least when he’s not being teased by the squirrel that lives in the tree in our backyard. Or when he’s being harassed by our favorite chicken, Chickenitza.

Chickenitza is not a fan of dogs. Nope, not at all. Our Riley is the quintessential dog. Quadruped, floppy tongue, wavy fur, and sweet warm brown eyes. With the intelligence of the average dog. My youngest daughter likes to compare him to Doug, the dog in the movie, “Up”. I have to admit, it pretty much fits him.

He barks at the squirrel and it laughs at him from the safety of it’s perch in the tree Riley can’t climb. When I’ve had enough, I try to chase the squirrel away. If the squirrel is in a good mood, he leaves. If not, he laughs at me, too. It’s rather frustrating for me, and down right infuriating for poor Riley.

Right now, as I type, the squirrel is fending off boredom by teasing my dog.

Chickenitza is not a dog fan, as I mentioned before; Chickenitza likes to sit on the fence, which drives Riley crazy. That’s really the best part, for that darned chicken.  When the chicken has gotten all of the amusement value out of the irate dog from the fence, Chickenitza flies to the ground and runs back and forth along the fence. Riley can see this through the fence, and it makes a crazy dog even crazier. Especially when that evil minded hen takes up position right in front of him, through the fence, and there is nothing he can do about it!

Because I don’t like this, it gets old very quickly, I figured I’d help Omar catch that chicken.  The barking reverberates through my head, making me crazy. I’ve had no luck. At all. That bird doesn’t even bother to look at me any more. It just gives a chicken sort of disdainful sniff.

Omar has been trying for months, literally, to catch this bird. I’ve got a really big fishing net, that I’m hoping will work to catch that chicken. It’s for salmon, it ought to work for that bird of ill repute. I admire that chicken, I have to say. That bird has eluded animal control, Omar, me, the owner of the bar and thus far, no one  has been able to catch that amazingly fast and agile chicken! Humans, 0: Chickenitza, 5. At least.

I know chickens are supposed to be able to fly short distances, but not this chicken. Not this unnatural chicken, who can fly freakishly high and freakishly fast, for a chicken.  That bird takes off like a Harrier jet. Vertical lift and VOOOOOMMMM! That chicken is outta here! Up over the fence, over the top of the storage shed and out into the semi-wild blue yonder.

The point of this is that the noise tends to be really distracting. I can turn up the stereo, but the neighbors object and that becomes a distraction. The barking dog, bouncing all over the house, knocking off the brush well, with brushes, makes a mess; when I’m cleaning oil off of the floor, I’m not making art.

But I love the big galoot. He’s a good dog, just a neurotic one.   🙂


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