A couple of notes about a few of our chickens.
Chickens, these feathered assassins of the yard, are the unsung apex predators of the bug world, wielding their razor-sharp beaks and lightning-fast reflexes like nature’s personal terminators. If ChatGPT and the long run Skynet are capable of harness the searching capability of a hen. We’re all screwed.
They terrorize my Belgian malinois and whereas a beetle scuttles alongside, pondering they’re scorching stuff, solely to be snatched up in a millisecond by a hen who’s been eyeing it like a sniper since daybreak… bugs don’t stand an opportunity in opposition to that primal focus. With their six-legged prey trembling earlier than them, chickens strut round with the swagger of a T-Rex, their clucks echoing as a warning to each insect inside earshot: “Cross me, and also you’re lunch.” It’s not simply their relentless pecking or their capability to identify a cricket from ten yards away—it’s the sheer audacity of turning a worm’s day right into a horror film, proving that within the grand pecking order, chickens reign supreme over the buggy plenty. Draw again…. Poop EVERYWHERE!!!
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