I kinda think chickens seem evil, but apparently they can be very friendly and soothing. My step-grandmother's sister was a Buddhist nun in Santa Barbara, and they kept chickens at the nunnery and people used to hug them, and found it relaxing. Maybe they were special Buddhist chickens.

Then they need to give you a raise. If no one else can/will work with her, you need hazard pay.

L.O.L. Yeah, I have actually asked for hazard pay, in those words. I'm not getting a raise more than the usual 3%.

Chickens are legal in my town, and every now and then I'll see one or two wandering around loose in one of the central neighborhoods.

The wandering herds of deer and occasional woodchuck incursion are far more bother.

I kinda think chickens seem evil, but apparently they can be very friendly and soothing. My step-grandmother's sister was a Buddhist nun in Santa Barbara, and they kept chickens at the nunnery and people used to hug them, and found it relaxing. Maybe they were special Buddhist chickens.

My friend who worked for the ASPCA, where they had an awards luncheon for animals, had some good stories about therapy chickens.

I'm working on a paper for my Deaf Culture class. It's analyzing the portrayal of deaf culture and deaf characters on "Switched at Birth." I really need to get in some stuff about paternalistic attitudes from hearing people, but it's pretty difficult to figure out how to describe it when the hearing people in question are actually the parents of the deaf girl.

I think possibly roosters are evil, but hens seem comforting, because they just sit. I think I might want a therapy chicken!

I also love the thought of hipster chickens!

They killed and plucked chickens in the store when my mom was little in the 40's and 50's in Rochester.

Stunt Poetry - pretty cool.

I think this bird would make a great therapy chicken.

I have a horrid sensitivity to egg yolks. And I love eggs SO MUCH.

My neighbor used to keep a horse in Griffith Park and the place where she boarded had a chicken coop. She'd come over and say, "I have farm fresh eggs!"

And then I would sob. I mean, I'm glad to know what it was that was making me feel sick. But eggs? EGGS?

I need to go cry again.

well, that's certainly ... fluffy

My father grew up on a farm but my mother was a city girl. The first time he took her to meet his family she was horrified when one of the cousins got up before dawn, killed and cleaned a chicken, and fried it up for breakfast. I think the getting up before dawn horrified her more than anything else.