Two weeks ago I wrote a column “Cheating with Chicks,” the purpose of which was to solicit names from the creative minds of Malibu for several chicks being mailed to my brother back East.
Max suggested “FedEggs,” an apparently hungry Susan Tellem offered “Nuggets,” “ Fricassee,” “ Kiev,” “ Marsala,” and “Enchilada,” and our own Jessica Davis came up with an Irish sounding “McCluckens.” I am saddened to report that brother Phil has turned down all of our ideas and even went so far as to summarily reject my recommendation “Burtie” as being outrageously narcissistic. Some people just don’t recognize genius when they see it.
The chicks have arrived and my brother has been inundated with impressive entries including “Pecky Sue,” “Lady Cluck,” “Brock Brock O’bama,” and “Margaret Hatcher.”
One student of history entered the name “Nevilla,” the female version of Neville as in Neville Chamberlin. The explanation accompanying the entry was simple enough, “One chicken should be named after another.”
An eleven year old girl from Vermont submitted the most creative entry, “Yolko Ono.” Who has any doubt about the next generation!
These poor chicks burdened for a lifetime with these strange names will have to mature and survive the cruel winters of the Adirondack Mountains while our chicks luxuriate in the California sun.
Let that be a lesson to those back in the “old country” who dismiss our creativity out of hand.
And let me assure you my readers that this is the last time I will subject you to any further mention of chicks, chickens, or hens. I am closing the book on this fowl and eggcentric naming contest.