Ode to Amelie

****This post is not for the squeamish******Disclaimer here**********

My sister was horrified.

My grandma would have been proud, although maybe made fun of me for not doing “the deed” myself.

My mum was supportive.

See below.

Amelie and Micheal, the chicken whisperer

An ode to Amelia

 

Amelia, oh Amelia, a sweet French hen that to us came

Into the coop we welcomed you, fed you, smiled

At your chicky games,

And low the next morning a chocolate egg you did lay

That puts all other eggs to shame.

 

Like a battleship plowing through the waves, unchallenged throughout the seas

You proudly swept through our sea of grass, blending in with ease.

Eating the hapless beetles that flew by, your feathers fluttering in the breeze.

 

Yet, quickly the eggs stopped coming, in spite of our love and care,

A year went by when a visitor came with a chicken touch so rare,

He mesmerized you, calming you with his gentle calming stare.

And chocolate eggs started again to show themselves so fair.

(Your life we then did spare).

 

But turn, you did, to the dark side,

And with Darth Vader became allied,

Pecking out your sisters feathers, away from you they shied,

 No more eggs did you provide

And to make matters worse, were eating others eggs they tried to hide.

(And all the evil treachery that this implies)

 

Yet now the backyard flock resides in peace,

The surly aggression once rampant did cease,

Egg production once more is on the increase,

When from this world we, did you, release.

(now you became a conversation piece.)

French chicken noodle soup with my grannies noodles

 I cant help it. I have always wanted 2 things.

1)To raise my own chickens and reap the eggy reward therein and

2) to one day eat a home raised, natural chicken the way our grandparents and beyond used to eat them.

I found a place to take them. For only a few dollars and in 15 minutes, you too can have your very own home grown chicken prepared for you to make for dinner. But beware of the expression “tougher than an old hen”. I cooked the meat (once they handed the bag to me with the bird in it, it was no longer Amelie, now it was just dinner)., anyway cooked it about 6 hours. It should have been 12 in a crock pot. I had to dice it very tiny for the soup. But it was the broth, oh man, with all the bones cooked in once I removed the meat, that was liquid gold. David was sick, so I especially made sure he got some. Boy was there a lot of fat to take out! I cooked up the meat, then removed it,  chilled it and the next day removed tons of fat so I could then preceded to make the broth.

 Of course, this occasion had to have home made noodles. It was very good, if a little chewy. Paul says I should hang the feet up in the hens yard as a warning to other “presumptious chickens”. But I could not be quite that cruel. Besides, we have enough trouble with flies.

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4 thoughts on “Ode to Amelie

  1. That poem is hilarious! And also really good! Did you write it yourself?
    Also, I believe you meant “hang” not “hand”

  2. thanks, yes I wrote it. It is mostly funny to those that new her and her wicked tendencies. I changed hand to hang, you were right.

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