On the way home from work this evening, I saw a tulip tree in bloom. It was pretty.
On a completely unrelated note, I finally came up with names for our chicks.
The buff Orpington is getting her pretty golden grown-up feathers in, so I was really thinking about naming her Jill Masterson, after the gilded Bond girl from the movie Goldfinger. But as I was watching her this evening, I realized the name doesn’t really fit such an audacious little bird. I mean, this girl is always the first in the flock to try something new — whether it’s eating out of my hand, allowing herself to be picked up and carried around the house, or stealing a treat and running away from her cagemates — and she’s usually the instigator in the slam-dancing frenzies. She just doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d lie still and allow herself to be painted into “skin suffocation,” y’know?
Besides … she’s always trying to fly (and getting frustrated because she can’t) … so it seemed more fitting to name her after an aviatrix.
Fortunately, as any Bond fans out there will recall, there is a beautiful, aggressive aviatrix in Goldfinger. Unfortunately, said aviatrix has a name that seems most inappropriate for a chicken … so, with apologies to Ian Fleming, I have decided to call my little golden girl …
wait for it …
are you ready? …
… “Pushy Galore.”
Awful, yes, but look: She’s a chicken. I don’t think she cares what I call her.
Sticking to that theme, I am naming our whole flock after Bond girls: Maud Adams (our beautiful and very outgoing silver-laced Wyandotte), Solitaire (the more skittish of our Araucanas), Plenty O’Toole (our other Araucana), Elektra King (our barred Rock, who likes to peck me as hard as she can whenever I try to pick her up), and Honey Ryder (our brown Leghorn).
Yeah, I know — I’m a hopeless dork. Cope with it. I do….