We got ‘Aria’ as an egg from a neighbour, which we put under a broody chicken hoping to get another hen to add to our flock.
It turns out that ‘Aria’ is actually ‘Adrian’. We don’t need a rooster, or the accompanying early morning wake up call.
Sadly, it looks like Adrian is not destined to live a long life, but perhaps we can have dinner in his honour.
The delicate part is how to inform my wife and kids of Adrians impending departure to another world.
Fortunately, my wifes attitude is ‘I dont want to know’, and so Adrian has become an unperson unchicken, much like those unfortunate characters in George Orwells book, 1984.
