Tag: Chicken

Featured Blogs · Short Stories

The sad saga of the Beak-less, Tailless, Gizzard-bobbing, one-leg hopping Chicken.

jacquelineobyikocha

Beth never fails to send me into stitches with her stories. I totally enjoy reading Nutsrok for my good dose of chuckles and her descriptions sends my imagination running haywire.

I hope you enjoy the farm tale and visit her for more.

Being a farm kid is not for sissies and cowards. The dark side of the chicken experience is slaughtering, plucking, cleaning, and preparing chickens for the pot. I watched as Mother transformed into a slobbering beast as she towered over the caged chickens, snagging her victim by the leg with a twisted coat-hanger, ringing its neck and releasing it for its last run. We crowded by, horribly thrilled by what we knew was coming. It was scarier than ”The Night of the Living Dead”, as the chicken, flapping its wings, running with its head hanging crazily to one side, chased us in ever larger circles until it finally greeted Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. It looked horribly cruel, but done properly, a quick snap of the wrist breaks the chicken’s neck instantly, giving a quick death. Of course, this is my assessment, not the unfortunate chicken. The chickens always looked extremely disturbed.

The story continues here.

Family · Personal

Humbly Eating Burnt Offering…Streams of consciousness Saturday.

jacquelineobyikocha29 Comments

I smile in amusement as I write this little post. If not that Easter eggs are popping up every where, my thought would have been that Linda has bionic powers to see into my kitchen.

I just finished breakfast of partially burnt scrambled eggsSoCS badge 2015 offered by my daughter. We are learning to cook and I guess burning is part of the practice 🙂

I humbly ate the eggs with a thankful heart. Soon enough she will get the hang of it with practice.

I think fleetingly back to my growing up years and learning how to cook in my mother’s kitchen. Only God knows how many burnt pots of rice, yam, beans, soup, I had to go through before getting into it.

Eggs were treats back then, eaten mostly on Saturday and Sundays because we had to wait for our local, home bred chickens to lay enough of them and on some days during the week, they were stingy or lazy with the laying of the eggs.

It’s not like now, where trays and trays of different types of eggs are on display for customers to choose as many crates as they wish.

Back then, it used to be a delight to go to the chicken coop at the back and find a warm, just laid egg.

Occasionally we were blessed with seeing a little chick hatch from eggs that my grandma set aside.

How she knew the ones that would hatch is something that I never understood.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha