I live in Salt Lake City. Just a hop skip and a jump away from Downtown. And I live on 3 acres of land. You are probably wondering how I managed that. I am still wondering how I managed that. But if anyone could, it would be me. It is this random block of properties that are all about 3 acres right in the middle of a regular subdivision. You look across the street and you think you are in a neighborhood. You look out our backyard and it is the sticks. I love it.
Besides the horses, goats, sheep and the lone duck there is a gaggle (flock? herd?) of chickens that is pretty much a wild cock renegade posse. No one feeds them. No one gets their eggs. They just wander the neighborhood pecking and cock-a-doodle-dooing. And if anyone has ever wondered, the cock-a-doodly-doo happens waaay before the sun comes up, around um 4:30. I'm surprised there hasn't been a drive-by-rooster shooting. Yeah there is no happy, cheerful cockeling to wake up the sun, which in turns wakes us up with a smile sending yellow beams of sunlight all over the world. It ends up being this croaking sound that makes you wonder if the rooster is on it's deathbed. Luckily I have managed to stop waking up in the early hours of the morning, unless they happen to be right under my window.
Here is a picture from my side window.
I have taken to calling them the Chicken Posse because there is this funny air about them like they are some old military group that never disbanded and totally own the place, and the street for that matter. It is many a day that I will come home and have to stop in the middle of the road and wait till the chickens get out of the way with indignant looks on their faces. Usually when I walk out to my car a number of them will look up in surprise and shake their red thingies at me as if they just couldn't believe I was doing such a thing. I have also seen them perch themselves on various fences, trees etc. around the block. They then croak messages to each other as if they are on watch duty. The Rooster Sentinel. "Sqwack! Frank, here's one coming. Get to the fence. Get to the fence." Or something like that I'm sure.
Did I mention the Duck? There is also one lone duck that seems to be apart of this Posse. If it were a person it would be some cute, old, senile lady that wanders the streets looking for who knows what. The Wandering Duck. The Rooster Sentinel. Welcome to the Funny Farm.
One last picture. Here is a chicken standing guard at our gate.