Jasmine is in bloom. Fireworks go off nightly. The chickens may have noticed
the first of these facts; they certainly noted the second and wanted to know
what I proposed doing about the problem.
“Nothing.”
Mimo, “What do you mean, nothing?”
“Nothing I can do. They’re celebrating getting rid of Brits.”
Appenzeller, “Are Brits predatory in some way?”
“A long time ago. They’ve been gone for years."
Pecorino, “And gods still celebrate? Brits must have been fierce. Can they
climb fences?"
“Funny you should ask. I was wondering what to do about the one bit of fencing
over there. Is it the stuff or does it give optical or offense?”
Mimo, “It’s largely inoffensive.”
“You don’t feel hemmed in?”
Appenzeller, “They do have better weeds outside the gate, but as long as you
keep the supply coming we’re happy with Chickens First policies.”
“I could experiment with some kind of modified vaccary fence?”
Mimo, “Vacca…that’s cows isn’t it?”
Pecorino, "Big animals are easier to keep with bounds than smaller ones.
You’ll have noticed that the cats escape all the time and of course Mimo did.
Have to be a pretty smart fence to keep her in. Brain the size of a planet
that one. Also a tendency to bully.”
“I do my best to keep her in check.”
Pecorino, “She jumped on my back while I was minding my own business, just
peacefully pecking and scraping.”
I diverted, “Pullus, Latin for small animal, hence poultry.”
Mimo, “Not very fond of that term. It mixes us in with pigeons. We prefer
‘fowl.’ Much nicer sounding word, fowl.”
“But doesn’t that mix you in with all birds? Comes from the German, does it
not, Vogel?”
Appenzeller, “I did not know that.”
Pecorino, “What else could we be called?”
“If you were wild you might be called ‘game.’ But that could involve shooting.”
Mimo, “No, no, don’t like the sound of that. We’re not good with guns.”
“Afraid of them?”
Mimo, “Can’t hit anything with them.”
“You’ve tried?”
Mimo puffed up, “I’ve spent some time regarding the garden cannon and imagined
how it might be employed.”
“It’s decorative. Anyone trying to fire it would be blown to pieces.”
Pecorino, “What’s blown mean?”
“Knocked over, as if by a strong wind.”
Appenzeller, “We’re not afraid of strong wind. We can fly you know.”
“A mighty wind.”
Mimo, “Nor a mighty wind.”
“You know the song, Land of Hope and Glory?’”
Appenzeller, “No.”
“It finishes on a high note, ‘Make me mightier yeeeeeeet.’…Really quite mighty.”
Mimo, “I’d just stand on it.”
“The explosion?”
Mimo, “The cannon. If you stand on top and jump up and down you could get it
to roll down the hill onto ants.”
“Ants?”
Mimo, “You probably say ‘aunts.'”
“No, I think you meant ants. Why ants?”
Appenzeller,, “They have armies.”
Pecorino, "And leggies.”
Mimo, “Go boil your wattle.”
Later I explained, “I tried the Ratti wine. Wasn’t good.”
Appenzeller, “Did it come in a bag?”
“No, a bottle.”
Pecorino, “Like your wattle.”
“I haven’t got a wattle.”
Pecorino, “You should get one. Your head’s too bare.”
“Says you. You haven’t got one either.”
Mimo, “She boiled it. Would you mind giving the food can a shake?”
Pecorino, “A fair shake for all.”
Mimo, “I don’t give a flying flock about fair. If you want fair, muscle up.”
“I’m beginning to think this conversation is a bit dream-like. Are you sure
one of us isn’t asleep?”
Appenzeller, “How would we know?”
Mimo, “just give the food can a shake.”
“What would that demonstrate?”
Mimo, “Well at minimum we’d get more food.”
“Cunning. And if I’m asleep or you’re asleep?”
Appenzeller, “We can dream of bounty.”
Pecorino, “Seeds and pizza.”
“It’s a plan. Did you know that Bing Crosby and the Andrews sisters had never
seen or heard the song, and they were done with the recording in thirty
minutes?”
Mimo, “What are you talking about?”
“Cole Porter bought the poem from a poet and engineer for $250. Man worked for
the Department of Highways in Helena Montana. 'Let me ride through the wide
open country that I love/ Don’t fence me in'…Sing it girls.”
Together: “Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above/ don’t fence
me in…”
Pecorino, “What’s a starry sky?”
Mimo, “It’s probably the cause of all those bangs in the night.”
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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