Why my Chicken will Never be Able to Cross the Road

Picture an odd little brown hen repeatedly flinging herself beak-first at a wire fence around a compost pile. Is it sick that I find that sort of thing totally hilarious?

I should probably have been more sympathetic,but......It was rather reminiscent of Mike Myers "hyper-hypo" from "Saturday Night Live" years ago. ( Not a huge fan of the show, but that bit was truly funny.)

I would have helped the determined chicken, but I didn't want to stifle her growth opportunity. All she had to do was take five or six steps to the left and she would have discovered the entire side of the fence was open. In her enthusiasm to join her sisters as they rooted around in the newly turned compost- she kept ramming spastically at the poor defenseless fence instead of engaging her hen sized intellect.

I know there is something profound in that story, but I will let you sort it out on your own.

For me...I took the road shallowly traveled, and thought, "That chicken reminds me of Shakespeare." Specifically- the ridiculous characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Hamlet. We should have named those two brown hens in their honor, but that would leave the issue of our dominant-goldish hen. You can't really name a hen Hamlet.

Actually , I think there is a pig somewhere named that.

What do you say to- Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and.....Omelet?