Farmer Green had enough of Bert’s attitude. There was something unsettling about that chicken. It was always strutting around like it owned the place, putting on airs and looking down on everyone. It never associated with any of the other chickens. It turned it’s beak up at worms and never once had he seen it fly. It just wasn’t right a chicken acting that superior. He was in charge of his farm and no chicken of his was going to get away with that sort of nonsense. Bert was going to learn to fly or die trying.

Bert (who was actually Betty–Farmer Green wasn’t really a very smart farmer) actually did think she owned the place. From the moment she hatched, she had been secretly coddled by the farmer’s daughter. She was hand fed, petted and groomed daily, and carried around like a princess in a basket. It was perfectly obvious to Betty that she was a superior creature. All that scratching around in the dirt was beneath her. That flying business was just undignified. As if she should propel herself somewhere! So it happened that Betty was most unpleasantly surprised the day she found herself tossed out of the hayloft into the empty air. With sudden clarity, and much flapping about, she realized she was in fact, just a chicken.

I am still quite in love with my new markers. So in love with them that I’ve actually been drawing on a regular basis. I even attempted to participate in Illustration Friday, which I’ve been following for years, hence the chicken themed picture.  Of course to actually participate I should have submitted it yesterday, but I was terribly busy drinking beer and meeting lots of cool new people.

I just couldn’t help myself when the theme was “chicken”.  I have a long history with chickens. I had chickens for most of my childhood and for the most part I think of them rather fondly.  They are very silly, and not terribly smart creatures, but I still like them. I liked them so much as a small child, that  I even decided I was going to be a chicken farmer.  Other children wanted to be firefighters or monster trucks, but I was going to raise chickens.  Like other children though, I grew up and I abandoned my dreams.

Years later my friends and I are relating our childhood aspirations.  I shared my chicken farmer dreams because I thought it was amusing.  Apparently my friends thought it was even funnier.  Embarrassingly funny.  To them it was a hilarious indication that I was from a rural area. In fact they started calling me Chicken Farmer and every birthday and Christmas I recieved a slew of chicken themed gifts.  I have chicken clocks, chicken lamps, chicken plushies, chicken dishes, etc.  Eventually I gave up and accepted my new title.  It took going to college and making new friends to acquire a new nickname.  Even so, I still occasionally get chicken gifts from my oldest friends.  Moral of the story?  Don’t tell your friends about your childhood.  Even if you don’t think it’s embarrassing at the time.

Now I wish I could have chickens again.