northern-punk-lad:

therestlessforest:

cottagecore vegans buying chickens bc tiktok told them chickens are cute and fluffee, then watching said chickens fucking obliterate any small mammal they see, and then getting upset about it has to be, hands down, some of the funniest shit in the world

besties, you bought fat velociraptors. and you’re going to have to come to terms with that

People always think chickens are cute and harmless until they see them attack as someone from a rural town you don’t fuck with chickens

dycefic:

writing-prompt-s:

Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord.

The thing you need to know about all of this, the thing that got me into all this trouble in the first place, is that chickens will sit on anything when they get broody enough. Anything. Duck eggs, goose eggs, turkey eggs, lizard eggs, egg shaped rocks, anything. Chickens aren’t smart. If it looks vaguely like an egg, they’ll plant their feathery arses on it and wait.

I noticed that there was a bigger egg under one of the broody chickens, when I checked. Of course I noticed, it was twice the size of the others. But I have geese. I figured it was a goose egg she’d found and stolen. It was about the right size, and I didn’t take it out to check the colour because that particular chicken gets very protective of her eggs. I’ve already got a scar on one hand from trying to get eggs away from her. I didn’t want a matched set.

That was a decision I regretted the moment I went out to feed the chickens and found a little blue-and-silver dragonet’s head poking out from under a very confused-looking chicken. The poor thing kept shifting around and looking under herself in a bewildered way, like she didn’t know what to do next. This particular chicken is a good mother, and she’s raised clutches of ducks and geese without any trouble – she’s even resigned to some of her children swimming – but this was too much. She didn’t object when I carefully reached in and fished out the little dragon.

It was so tiny, then. It fitted in my hand, with its little head peeking out one side and its tail looping around my wrist. Cute, too, with its big eyes and little snout turned up towards me.

That was when I made my second mistake. I decided to feed it before releasing it. Dragons are innately wild creatures, everyone knows that. They can’t be tamed. People have tried. The eggs are abandoned as soon as they are laid, and the dragonets hatch able to hunt, so they don’t even bond with their mothers. So just feeding it a little shouldn’t have been a big deal. It should have gobbled the meat and fled as soon as I loosened my grip on it and it saw the open sky.

It didn’t. As soon as I’d fed it, it fluttered up to a sunny window ledge and went to sleep. I went about my work, figuring that it’d leave in its own time.

By noon, it was sitting on my boot, squeaking pathetically. I wondered if maybe it was confused by the farmyard – they usually hatch in mountains, if the stories are right – so I took it back to the farmhouse with me and fed it again when I ate, then took some time away from the fences I should have been mending to walk it up to the hills. I found it some nice rocks, with plenty of lizards and beetles and suitable prey for something that size. It pounced on a beetle almost as soon as I put it down, and when I left it was crunching happily.

I hadn’t walked a quarter of the way back before something hit the back of my boot. The little dragon was holding on with all four claws, and when I looked down it squeaked pathetically. If possible, its eyes got even rounder.

Listen, you don’t make it as a farmer if you just let orphaned baby animals die. We hand-raise calves and lambs and ponies, set chickens to sit on abandoned eggs, or put them under the kitchen stove or by a fireplace. You don’t make a success of farming if you don’t value every animal. A good shepherd will spend all night looking for one lost sheep. So despite what was said later, it wasn’t just sentiment that made me sigh and pick up the little thing and carry it back to the farm.  I am a good farmer. I don’t let orphaned babies die just because they’re a little work.

Keep reading

angelscas:

mutuals i wanna know what your favorite animal is

itscolossal:

Hens and Roosters Fly the Coop and Strut Into the Spotlight in Alex ten Napel’s Portraits

bizarrecontrast:

revolutionaryshoe:

zooophagous:

coloricioso:

shadows-takes-all:

I have read (and see) something about Hades and Persephone having chickens in the underworld, but this is really a fact or is something invent?

Chickens were indeed sacred to Hades and Persephone and an example of this are the  terracotta votive tablets from Locri -the ones of the pictures-. There are some books about this subject like Iconography of Religions by Bianchi or Locrian Maidens by Redfield.

The cock/chicken “became the chthonic bird, and was used on tombs, as emblematic of the hope of a reawakening to life”. (Peters) and it is also refered as “an infernal animal of passage” by Bernabe in his book Instructions for the Netherworld: the orphic gold tablets.He also says: ”Cocks allude to the world of the afterlife: as intermediaries between the soul and the Beyond, they intercede between the world of the dead and that of the living”.

Remember Persephone was the goddess of renewal, so at least in Locri, the cock was an usual attribute of her. And in other cultures cocks-chickens were seen as animals related to renewal and life (eggs have that symbolism tooo).

:D so. chickens for Hades and Persephone all the way.

(sources 1 - 2 - 3)

I KNEW chickens were sacred, I just didn’t know to whom

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“To intercede between the world of the living and that of the dead, as intermediaries between the soul and Beyond.”

“You mean…to get to the Other Side?”

“….yes.”

@gallusrostromegalus