Jeff was buying some carrots at Whole Foods yesterday. When the (female) cashier asked him if he would like her to cut the carrot tops off, he replied, "No! My ladies love them."
She just looked at him for an awkward moment.
"My chicken ladies," he said, clearing up the confusion (which could have been construed as sexist or even illegal, depending on how far your mind goes).
(And indeed they do love them. Carrot tops are one of their most favorite treats. I always cut them up into tiny pieces so they don't try to swallow a whole, long, top. Chickens are not very bright and often place their self-preservation efforts in the wrong basket, so to speak.)
"You have chickens!" she exclaimed! "I love chickens! I want chickens!"
She started to press for details about the coop, but she is a cashier and it was lunchtime and their was a line. "I'll have to ask you about it another time."
"You know where to find me. I'm in here every day." And, no he's not kidding. Sometimes he's in Whole Foods three times a day.
And now, a gratuitous photo of Lady Marmalade's tail feathers:
