THE GREAT CHICKEN REBELLION OF 2020 PT. 1

 

 

     Perhaps you have heard of the Whiskey Rebellion. In 1791, then Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton got the bright idea to tax whiskey to lessen the burden of the expense of the Revolutionary War. It seemed like a good idea to him. To him, it made sense. The farmers on the western frontier of Pennsylvania, however, were having none of this. They refused to pay into what they saw as an abuse of federal authority and rose up in protest. In July of 1794 whiskey rebels went as far as to set fire to the home of the regional tax collection supervisor, John Neville. This led President George Washington to bring in the big guns, also known as the militia, to quiet things down once and for all. He thought he had it bad. He thought he had it rough. That’s because, he (and Alexander Hamilton) never went toe to toe with a flock of chickens.

     The Great Chicken Rebellion of 2020 also began with an idea. Mine, expressly. I thought it was good. I thought it would improve things. I thought it would simplify. I thought wrong.

     I had recently remodeled my bathroom and I was in a home improvement frame of mind. So, I decided that I wanted to try out my newly discovered and enjoyed skills on the poultry house. Namely, I wanted to add built in nests and remove the small doghouse that had been used as a nest for years. It was time to change, time to make collecting the eggs just a little easier, time to get rid of a disgusting little abode that I could no longer stand. 

 

     

 So, I began to plan. The more I planned, the more I like the idea and the more I wanted to do this. I was sure the chickens would thank me when their renovations were done. I mean, how could they not like more space and cleaner places to lay their eggs? Why, they would be so grateful, they would probably fall prostrate on the ground whenever I walked by. They would cluck my name with the greatest of reverence.

     On a sunny morning this past June, the work began with my hauling out five old wooden crates from the shed that I thought would make perfect nests and gathering the necessary tools. My sister was there to help and, “Operation Poultry House,” began.

    The old doghouse was removed and set next to another I had removed earlier, and I began to nail the crates onto the walls of the poultry house. Two by fours were added beneath the boxes to act as support and, when we had finished, I was proud. This wasn’t anything that would have impressed the “Property Brothers,” but it was still pretty good. I thought so, anyway. When I filled the boxes with fresh straw, I smiled as I surveyed our work and I wondered which chicken would be the first to take advantage of this avian version of “Extreme Makeover.”

     Any illusions of a great reception were quickly dispelled.