Chicken Ban

Some kid wrote a letter to the local paper demanding why his family are not allowed to raise chickens within the town limits. The kid tries to bring arguments in his favor:

• If New York and Los Angeles allow chickens, why can't we? What does New York and Los Angeles have to do with us?
• It isn't like chickens are pigs or cows. Irrelevant. A farm animal is a farm animal. A chicken is an element of the farm animal set.
• Chickens are a way to raise money. Irrelevant. Store-bought eggs are cheaper — so much so that almost all of the local egg farmers are now closed. I doubt that the kid would make much (if any) money.
• Chickens do not make noise. Irrelevant. Noise was never an issue.
• Chickens poop, but so do cats and dogs. Why not go all the way on this one: Humans poop, too, and some poop a lot. The issue is that chickens poop copiously, more than wild birds, and they poop everywhere: On sidewalks, on streets, on porches, on stair steps. The poop is hard to clean up, especially in winter.

The kid is oblivious of why the anti-farm animal ordinance will stand, no matter what the kid does and says. However, Madre told me when I brought this up that the kid's family lives far from the center of town, but still within its borders. So the kid's ignorance is understandable.

But here comes some enlightenment. Several years ago, when Padre was still with us and I still lived at my folks' house, the folks' neighbors decided to raise some chickens because it was so artsy-craftsy, just like they are. The problem is that the neighbors did not know how to raise chickens. They did not give the chickens enough food and water. The coop they built for the chickens was flimsy, allowing the chickens to escape. Looking for food, the chickens would settle in the folks' backyard and around the back door. At first, the folks took pity on the chickens and provided food and water. They even provided them shelter when the bitter winter came. One of the hens rewarded the folks by laying all its eggs in a hidden niche underneath the family room window: It had gotten to be hugh pile of foul eggs when we found it.

In the end the neighbors sold the chickens — and bought more! And, like before, the ill-fed chickens escaped the joke of a coop and wandered about. By this time, I moved out, Padre passed on, and Madre decided NOT to feed those chickens. Deprived of food, the chickens ventured far in search of scratchings. Their search took them one block north of Madre and her neighbors, to greener lawns to peck and dig up … including the lawns of the mother and the son of the town council president!

The town council ordered the anti-farm animal ordinance enforced — now. The police came to the neighbors, removed the chickens, and ordered the neighbors not to raise any more. The neighbors tried to persuade the town council to lift the ban, but the council turned a deaf ear.

And now you have it: The anti-farm ordinance will stand. Madre's neighbors blamed her for calling the police, but they and their incompetence earned them the wrath of the town council.