Hey Chickie, Wanna Buy Some Scratch?

Reader Contribution by Victoria Gazeley
Published on October 7, 2011

I have a confession to make.

I am a dealer of avian contraband. Or a chicken’s version of an Apple Store. Or some sort of poultry pop star.

At least that’s what it looks like.

I walk outside, and within seconds I have 15 fluffy, preening little pre-teens following me. And not just following, but RACING towards me, crowding around my feet, clucking and cooing (and sometimes screaming), wanting my autograph… or something more sinister.

Is this what Justin Bieber feels like?

Truth be told, they don’t want me, but what I can give them (ain’t that always the way?). So I don’t let it go to my head, nice as it is. What they really want is scratch.

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