He’s not afraid to take a stand on chickens

FATHER’S DAZE
Emmitt B. Feldner • forThe Review

With so many candidates for president acting like 7-year-olds this year, maybe we need an actual 7-year-old to run.

If that’s the case, I’d like to nominate our grandson Nolan.

It seems like he’s ready for it.

He’s already started on his platform, at least.

I picked Nolan up after school one day last week and, while we were driving home, he made the following comment from the back seat:

“If I were president, I’d let everybody have as many chickens as they want, wherever they live.”

Granted, it’s not quite as catchy a slogan as “A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage.”

But Nolan can’t do any worse by his promise than Herbert Hoover did by his, right?

Nolan followed that up by saying that if he could, he would change his name to Nolan Harvey Chicken.

I don’t know about you, but I kind of like the sound of President Chicken – maybe a little honesty in politics, perhaps.

I should explain this obsession with chickens Nolan has.

It goes back about six years, when Nolan’s grandmother decided that, since they had just moved out into the country on a five-acre property that included a chicken coop, her grandsons should have some chickens to keep in the chicken coop.

That was the year she gave Ty and Nolan a dozen chicks for Easter.

Admittedly, Ty was more interested in the chickens way back then than Nolan, who was only a year-and-a-half old at the time.

While they were interested in the chickens, they weren’t interested in following my suggestion and naming them Original, Extra Crispy, Barbecue, Nuggets, Fingers, Popcorn, Filet, Patty and – for the two multi-colored, foreign-looking chicks, Cacciatore and Parmesan.

But over the years, Ty’s interests have turned in other directions – understandably – but Nolan’s interest in the chickens has grown.

I don’t know how many of that original brood they still have, but Nolan could probably tell me if I asked.

I do know that Cacciatore passed away within just a few weeks after we gave the brood to the boys – I do know it was one of the multicolored ones.

I arbitrarily decided it was Cacciatore, since I like Chicken Parmesan better than Chicken Cacciatore.

Hey, since they decided not to name them, I could, right?

They’ve also lost a few over the years to predators wandering through their property – although, so far as we know, never to any of their dogs or cats.

They’ve replaced at least some of them over the years, but I’m pretty sure they’ve still got at least a few of the original crew hanging around.

Apparently, the average chicken lives anywhere from eight to 12 years, so that would make whoever’s left from the original 10 somewhere on the downside of middle age.

If they’re anything like me, that means they’re not doing as much running around as they did when they were spring chickens – which, of course, they were, since they were Easter presents.

But there are still enough to keep Nolan interested – and wanting to share the joy of chickens with everyone.

So remember Nolan Harvey Chicken.

He’s the candidate who promises a chicken – lots of them - in every yard and promises not to build any walls around any chicken coops.


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