We've taken a big step here at Minnow Creek Lane. I clean chicken poop now. And chickens poop a lot. Add that to my resume. Sells well on Wall Street.
Living in Manhattan did I ever dream of chickens? I can't say that I did. Maybe hot wings with bleu cheese dressing. Never the live kind. But here on Orcas, where everyone raises chickens, things are different. We have a stable, begging to be used for something other than Gerry's second shop, and I don't fancy myself a horse lady, despite looking quite at home in a pair of riding boots. Chickens seemed like the natural introductory choice for a couple of city slickers. Easy, right?