Italian Chickens

Not Italian Chicken, as in chicken parmesan. No, I’m referring to Italian Chickens. There is a crucial difference here. These are my strange birds who will fight battles for tortellini.

It begins with a boy.

I wonder how my younger but definitely more burly than me brother would feel about me calling him a boy at this point?

It was early evening, the air was dewy and warm and it smelled like pasta and cheese.

A gang of Rhode Island Reds were loitering on the front stoop, looking for no good. One of them, Roberta the ring leader, was looking for a fight.

Just then, the tendrils of tortellini perfume wafted across their nostrils. “Let’s go!” Roberta said.

Roberta wasn’t well versed in pasta varieties. But she’s always been an adventurous eater, much to the dismay of her coop-mates.

She sniffed it out… walked a few laps around it.

Got a little closer to take it all in.

Stepped back and contemplated the potential repercussions of this experiment.

Then just went for it.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “You gotta live a little.”

“Hm… is that four cheese? I’m getting undertones of marjoram here.”

Then total mahem insued.

Chickens don’t teach us virtuous behaviors.

They are not a sharing creature.

In fact, if they see that someone else has something that they want, they run over as fast as they can to check it out and see if it’s something they would like to have.

They stick their head in there and survey the goods.

And if it looks like something even remotely valuable to them, they grab it and run.

They’re kind of like football players. Or, rather, they’re kind of like how football players look to me when they have an object in their possession.

Someone steals it…

Then someone else blocks ’em and tries to drive them out of bounds.

Fumble!

Recovery!

This encompasses my entire knowledge of football. In it’s entirety. All of it. Right up to the chicken manure part.

Then inevitably there’s a straggler who was waylaid by some curious looking insects in the gravel. “Wait up guys!”

Please ignore the alien in the hazmat suit. He’s just on his way to see about some bees.

As you can imagine this went on for hours. Over a single tortellini.

I never knew a tortellini could cause so much chaos.

They went for the sauce next. But those photos aren’t appropriate for here, this is a family friendly site.