Give Us a Chicken Wing. Or Don’t. Because It’s Still Alive.

We’ll get to the House and Home Roundup Roundup later (we’re extra psyched today), but we were so taken with this story that we just had to give it its own special place in our blogosphere. We’ve loved the section’s headlines ever since we had to ponder the punctuation of our own late-breaking debut for weeks on end, wondering if we were getting a dis or a prop. But “Scratch a Suburb, Find a Chicken” just totally twists our reality. Apparently the chicken is the new favorite sub/exurban household pet:

Mr. and Ms. Bove, who moved early in their marriage from Staten Island to semirural Frankford Township in New Jersey, have 4 children and 24 chickens. They are among a growing number of exurban and suburban Americans who keep the birds not for commercial reasons but as pets, family egg producers, show animals or some combination.

We’re gonna go ahead and translate this from Times into English. Mr. and Ms. (shouldn’t that be Mrs.?) Bove got married. They got out of the city because sometimes the, er, temptations can wreak havoc. So they did what any reasonable couple does and ended up in Jersey. With babies. And chickens. They do weird things with these chickens and probably think about them more than they should. Possibly to distract themselves from the lack of other distraction. Just guessing.

By the end of the story, the author’s been sucked in, bought, and put in the chicken’s pocket.

Even so, when I went to visit the Boves and was asked if I wanted to handle a six-week-old chick from the last “hatch,” the avian equivalent of a litter, my heart melted.

The little hen went home with me in a cardboard box, and she is really quite bright. She is a mutt rather than one of the fabulous breeds I saw at the fair, but I do find myself imagining a rustic Adirondack chicken cabin for her, or perhaps a miniature chalet. I have yet to name her, but for now I call her Peeps.

Now that is adorable.

UPDATE: A reader has pointed out the fundamental flaw with this entire scenario.

“christ. if bird flu crosses the pacific, these suburban fowl-lovers are gonna be toast.”

and then again, a moment later:

“the point is that running out to get a pet that is going to potentially facilitate the destruction of the human race = not cool.”