Never Hold a Conversation with a Chicken – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Chickens are ignorant. If you attempt to talk to them, you are wasting your time. People say that chickens are intelligent, but people are wrong. How can they be all that smart with those tiny little heads and pointy faces?

If you start a conversation with a chicken, you will end up disappointed.

Me:        Well, let’s try this. Hey! Squawky! What’s going on?


Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaakk!

Stella:    You see! She doesn’t even know how to pronounce her own name.

Me:        Maybe she was not saying her name.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaakk waak!

Stella:   There! That’s not even the same thing. She doesn’t know what she is saying.

Me:        Maybe she is saying ‘hello’.

Stella:    That is too many noises for ‘hello’.  Let me ask her a question. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

Me:        You don’t have to yell.


Me:        No yelling.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaaak! Waaak! Waak. Waak. Waak.

Stella:   It’s just getting worse. Poor little chicken brain.

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Human, please tell your other bulldog to stop digging at our food. It is not for her.

Me:        Wow. That was pretty clear.

Stella:    She has been holding out on us.

Me:        If you have sway with Wiggles, tell her to leave the chicken feed alone.

Stella:    Yeah, she sure doesn’t want her big old bulldog face to meet the angry pointy-faced chickens. I think talking to chickens is a dangerous proposition, Lady Human. Can we trust them?

Squawky the Silkie Chicken:   Waaaaaaakkk!

Stella:    Typical.





Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.


Squawky Day – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges and I want earplugs.

Me:        Why? Because the pack barks so loudly?

Stella:    No. Barking is a lovely sound. I need earplugs to block out squawking. Chicken squawking.

Me:        Yeah, I noticed that today. I think they were mad because their breakfast was running late.

Stella:    And whose fault is that?

Me:        Mine. I took a little time to move the new 50-pound bag of chicken feed into place.

Stella:    50 pounds! That’s as heavy as I am. Cool.

Me:        I think you are easier to carry. You are more compact.

Stella:    Was that the big bag that you were dancing with?

Me:        Did it look like dancing? It felt like wrestling.

Stella:    Well, next time, do it sooner.

Me:        Oh, of course, Your Majesty. Pardon me. So sorry that your sensitive ears were inconvenienced.

Stella:    I pardon you.

Me:        You know, the next time they start squawking, you can go out and tell them to quiet down. They might listen to you.

Stella:    Chickens listen to a bulldog? Of course, they should. But would they? I doubt it. Have you seen how tiny their heads are? Their brains are just as small.

Me:        Small heads or not, chickens are very intelligent.

Stella:    Why?

Me:        They can play tiny pianos.

Stella:    With their scrawny feet or with their sharp, hard mouths?

Me:        With their beaks.

Stella:    Showoffs. That’ s easy if you have a pointy face.



Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.