Dear Poppy....

Extending himself above the height of his normal stature, almost as if he's standing on his toes. His watchful eye is keen over his little harem of ladies. He locates a treat on the ground and instead of taking for himself he tenderly clucks to entice his ladies to share in the delights. What a proud, handsome gentleman.


I can't help but notice he has his favorites or maybe they are the ones to not leave his side. Whichever way that affection goes these particular ladies are close by to nuzzle him and keep him tidy with even grooming his beak of any gooy extras.


One thing has become clear to this writer, without warning should he feel you have approached too closely or something is in any way amiss, without hesitation his feet and beak are making a landing up my backside.


Poppy is sure to never attack when looking my way or when I might possibly be aware. He's too clever for that. His game is to climb the backside of my leg when my eyes are in another direction. Without warning his claws and beak are on me, his wings furiously slapping me for having disrupted his precious space with his ladies.


You see I don't need his services. My hens can provide me with delicious eggs without his advice on the matter. I have delivered to him his pink slip and final warning. Having pulled out and recently cured the perfect cast iron pot that will collect his plunked remains and serve up a tasty poultry pot pie... yum.


This story.... to be continued





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