Column: Poultry stories leave writer scrambling for egg jokes

I’m a city boy, born and bred just outside Manhattan. In fact, the phrase “born and bred” is the closest I’ve ever come to talking like a farmer.

My wife and I went to the Indiana State Fair this summer, and she spent a lot of time in the poultry barn, looking at baby chicks and saying, “How cute”; while I was out on the Midway looking at you-know-what on a stick, saying, “How delicious.”

Curiosity led me to buy a couple of magazines the next day, Chickens and Poultry World, both dedicated to the proper care and breeding of our feathery friends. In the intro to one of the publications, the editor, Terry Beebe, is seen holding his buddy, a handsome springer spaniel. I guess Terry has learned that you attract more chicks holding a dog than a rooster.

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