backyardchickenfail


Raptor party

After spending a few days watching over my new chickens I realized something: chickens suck. Owners on the backyard chicken forums (they exist) spoke of birds with personalities, who came when you called, and perched on your lap. Turns out these people are just crazy cat ladies who have chickens instead. These things were pretty stupid and boring.

This is what a chicken does for most of the day: poops, scratches at dirt, pecks the ground, squawks, sits on things, shits on things, flaps its wings, walks in that head bobbing way that makes you want to sing “walk like an Egyptian.”  Occasionally the birds would charge at each other, puffing up fluffy chest to fluffy chest, trying to establish the pecking order. When they were out in the yard and one bird found a bug that the others wanted, the other two would chase it around the yard trying to steal it. That was about the extent of entertainment my poultry provided. I really need to get cable.

While watching the birds roam around the yard I couldn’t help but notice their similarities to dinosaurs. Many of my formative years were spent drawing t-rexs, triceratops, parasaurolophuses, and liopleurodons. At the height of my dino-mania not only had I seen Jurassic Park five times in theaters, I wanted to be a paleontologist. Many scientists accept the theory that certain dinosaurs evolved into birds. Looking at a dino like a struthiomimus versus a modern day ostrich, it’s easy to see the similarities.

It’s an entirely other thing to be able to accept it.

This means that my beloved-ed, fierce some, monsters of my childhood were nothing but giant chickens, literally. Imagine T-rex nancing around doing that jerky chicken walk, clucking as he goes. Now picture him with feathers. Lame.

Not horrifying

This also kills the scariness factor of Jurassic Park, the movie. Now they’re not being attacked by a rampaging beast but a big bird, complete with a bird sized brain. Suddenly out running velociraptors doesn’t seem so hard when you could likely distract them with a mirror or shoo them away with a broom. I mean, really Samual L Jackson, you got killed by a stupid bird? “I’m tired of all of these mother clucking chickens in this mother clucking power facility!” Doesn’t sound badass at all.

Total pussy

So for ruining one of my favorite movies as a kid, and my favorite childhood monsters- Urge to kill: 1 Point.

The next post “That cat was clearly CIA.”

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