Monday, May 10, 2010

what would I know about a wig?

This morning I found Toupee's head on the outside of the chicken run and the rest of Toupee on the inside of the chicken run. Wrap your brain around that, would you?

She is/was our Cuckoo Marans and looked like Wikipedia's hen:
Only fatter and poofier. She laid infrequent dark brown eggs, and was a kookoopants. Remember that time she thumped Morganna the Kissing Bandit? We named her Toupee because Marans is a French breed. I bought her from a weird lady in American Fork or Pleasant Grove who had all manner of fancy chickens. I don't know if any of my chickens have been my favorite, but I was very fond of Toupee. Her craziness was endearing. She would go broody a few times every summer, and would vigorously defend her clutch from intruders. We had to wear gloves and push her aside with a hand rake just to get the eggs, with her growling like a rabid loafer wolf all the while.

I wonder what happened? Maybe a raccoon reached in with his little monkey paw and pulled her head through the fence. He didn't even eat any of her, which is even more offensive to me because of the waste. You're going to kill my designer chicken and not even eat her? This is how food webs get mussed, you stupid mammal.

In honor of Toupee, I will share with you an anecdote about a toupee (the gross accessory, not the chicken).

There was this guy in my parents' ward who . . . okay, imagine Wallace Shawn in Clueless:
without those few stragglers on top, and you've got this guy. Well, over a course of months, or years, maybe, he grew his hair out past his shoulders and started wearing it in a ponytail. And it was so strange to see, and embarrassing, because if there's anything sadder than a long-haired hippie throwback, it's an aged, balding hippie throwback. Then one day, the guy shows up at church with a pageboy haircut--and full coverage! We realized with horror and begrudging admiration that the man had sown, cultivated and harvested his own toupee. Words fail me.

RIP, Toupee (the chicken, not the gross accessory). I hope in Heaven you finally get those babies you always wanted.

Speaking of toupees, don't you love Kids in the Hall? I do.


tipsybaker said...

Oh, the trouble chickens get into. Sheesh.

Melissa Cunningham said...

My condolences. Heidi cried when our turkey died. She was so sweet. Isn't it strange how attached we get?

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Beeswax said...

Oh, boy that toupee story made me a little sick (the accessory one, not the chicken).

My husband likes to talk about Morganna the kissing bandit, but I thought he was making her up.

Condolences on the bird.

And thanks for visiting me! Is very nice to meet you! I would love 2 or 3 new readers!

kacy faulconer said...

Farewell Toupee. I never knew thee.

Claire said...

Sad. She will be missed.