What the cluck

I’m convinced my father-in-law would make a hell of a free diver.

That’s because when I went to see him the other day, he drew maybe one breath in 10 minutes.

Gary’s nonstop crowing was about his new passion: chickens.

He bought about 30 chicks in July. Sunday, my wife and I checked on their progress.

Thus began our poultry lesson.

Gary told us about Leghorns, Rhode Island Reds, Buff Orpingtons. We learned which breeds lay white and brown and green eggs. He told us about grit and the digestive system.

He went on about wattles and combs. He knew how far apart — in inches — that each animal slept on the roosts.

And my heavens, the accommodations. This was no chicken coop. This was the Waldorf Astoria.

Painted a beautiful, barn red, the frame is anchored by wooden posts set in concrete. Pitched roof. Windows. Electricity. When rain compromised a seal, he added an awning. There even is range area.

Gary Howard has gone for it. And it is a sight to behold.

The omelettes are going to be tasty.



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