Shepherd
02-06-2010, 09:35 AM
Hawaii Island Journal
Keeping current with issues that matter most in Hawaii.
Chicken Scratch
by ADMIN on FEBRUARY 5, 2010
Chicken Talk Story
by Shepherd Bliss
First you hear their sounds. Then you see a man affectionately stroking a colorful bird. I came early, but a few dozen people were already gathering around the Mo’oheau Bandstand in downtown Hilo one recent Sunday morning. I was one of the first haoles to arrive.
“What are all these chickens doing here?” inquired a large Polynesian-looking woman. “I was walking by, heard all the commotion, and wondered what was happening.”
I showed her the flyer for this Third Annual Poultry Symposium, sponsored by the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association in cooperation with the University of Hawai’i Cooperative Extension Service.
“Sometimes I wish that I were a chicken,” the woman mused.
She continued to pose probing, graceful questions in colorful pidgin. Her shorter friend nodded in support. Being the chicken lover that this reporter is, he was glad to respond to her questions and keep the chicken talk going. I’ve enjoyed hours over many decades engaging in chicken talk. We chicken lovers find each other and can tell umpteen chicken stories and talk up a storm about our animal of choice.
Talking chicken was an important thing that happened that Sunday morning in Hilo, while others were in church doing God talk. We didn’t sit down on pews, but meandered casually about looking at birds and sometimes even chatting with them. Chickens have long been seen as divine animals, especially in Asia. They can be more than meets the eye, though their beauty is often pleasing to the eye. By carefully looking at any creature or natural element deeply, one can see the Nature of which they are an integral part.
“They’re so cute,” the first woman observed. I agreed. They also seemed relaxed, getting all that stroking. We could all benefit from such petting and attention.
An hour later this inquisitive duo was still wandering around among the chickens. The two finally walked off toward the nearby farmers’ market across the street, more happy for having spent quality chicken time.
By observing simple chickens, humans can learn a lot about the world, ourselves, and our appropriate role within Nature. Electricity had not made it to our family farm in rural Iowa by the mid-1950s. So instead of watching TV, we watched chickens and other barnyard animals and told stories about them and other creatures at night, illuminated by gas lanterns. Chickens populated my childhood dreams and remain deep within my psyche.
Years later, at Kokopelli Farm in Northern California, I gathered a diverse flock of Silkies, Cochins, Polish, Aracaunas, Rhode Island Reds and other regular and unusual breeds. These differently-colored breeds got along much better than do the different races of that taller two-legged animal. Furthermore, they delighted customers with their chicken antics and provided tasty orange-yolked eggs from all the free-range eating that they did.
Being a Chicken Man
OK. I admit it. I’m a chicken man. I think that they’re beautiful, highly communicative, wise, useful, entertaining and socially responsible. Sometimes they do dumb things, but they’re not dumb animals, especially when compared to that other, taller biped. Chickens can teach us humility, being so lowly, yet able to rise. Chickens do not have that human tendency to get inflated, arrogant, and prideful.
We evolved from chickens, you know. Before we were apes, we were chickens. Or at least that is how I feel about it, but I’m not a scientist. Watch chickens closely and see who they might remind you of, flapping their wings, talking up a story, and having such a short attention span before they dash off. Got any friends like that?
Linguists contend that chickens actually say about two dozen distinct things, which translated into English are phrases like “predator-in the sky,” “food-over here,” and “sex-I want it now.” Oh, for such a simple life of walking and flying around, eating and having sex. It looks easy enough, so I’ve tried to flap my unfeathered arms, but I never lift off the ground.
I was, however, recently threatened by a Journal reader with being “tarred, feathered, and run out of town” for a post-election article on darkness. I wouldn’t mind the feathers, thank you, but I could do without the hot tar. I rather like Hilo town, especially with chickens running around.
Chickens recognize at least 80 distinct members of a flock and have a complex social organization. Though called a “pecking order,” it is more complicated than that and can change swiftly. Chickens are smarter than you probably think, having a special kind of chicken wisdom. As prey, they must learn to survive in an often-hostile world. Yet they continue to multiply, especially here on the islands. We have more chickens in my neighborhood than humans, which is fine with me.
Chickens often seem to be eating, but they don’t eat too much. Have you ever seen a fat chicken? Left to their own, chickens know which are the healthy foods for them, unlike their taller, too-often fatter descendent.
Chickens eat bugs, grass, human throwaways and all kinds of things that they can get into their pecking beaks. They adore berries, tomatoes, and watermelon. Chickens eat so many diverse things that they might be useful in reducing that loud, pesty, growing coqui frog population. (Now, there’s a noise problem.) Chickens transform this mix of food and refuse into jewels-eggs that can be delicious as well as nutritious. Artists and philosophers have long contemplated chicken eggs as a beautiful and even divine form.
Chickens know how to have fun, scratching and dancing about as they do, snuggling into the Earth. Watching them as a child, and now as an adult, has enabled me to be more playful. “Lighten up” seems to be a message that chickens naturally communicate, even in the face of impending death, to which they seem to surrender.
Chickens are more entertaining than TV. I still don’t have a TV, so I enjoy engaging with chickens, as well as other animals.
Chickens in Hawai’i
At most of the many chicken gatherings I’ve attended over the decades, the beautiful hens outnumber the loud cocks. But here on the Big Island, more cocks attended this symposium. More males than females were among the some fifty humans who came. Many walked around with chickens firmly cradled in their arms. Many birds had that content look, as if they were about to purr.
“Chickens like to be touched,” explained Halyna Kuheana, president of the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association. “If you massage their cheeks and they close their eyes, you’ve made a friend. Chickens are great for children. They go from an egg to an adult in two years. Kids can learn about life from them. Chickens can be great teachers. People don’t give them enough credit.”
On this day one could learn about the pleasures and challenges of having poultry. One could learn about the history of chickens here in Hawai’i and elsewhere, alternative methods of breeding and raising them, and dealing with diseases and other problems.
Among the displays at this event was a graphic of the Hilinia Pali Petroglyph Cave from AD 1600 to 1800. According to the Bishop Museum, a detail shows “Fighting Cocks and Spectators.” The sign says that it is “photographic evidence of Hawaiian cockfighting given by David Malo in his book Hawaiian Antiquities, 1951.”
Other colorful posters revealed interesting facts. For example, the cock spur, mao kakala, was used in Hawaiian war weapons. Today the spurs are used by male dancers during Hawaiian chants.
A handout from the Bernice P. Bishop Museum reviewed the history of “Gamefowl in Hawaiian Culture.” It noted that Polynesian chickens (moa) “were brought from Malaysia to Polynesia, where they were found in all the islands except New Zealand.” The bulletin excerpt continued, “The Hawaiian fowl is traditionally identified with the Lomo-Pele migration, specifically with ‘Olopana, paramount chief of Ko’ohau on Oahu.”
“In old Hawaiian times,” the handout added, “there were both wild and domesticated chickens in Ka’u and doubtless throughout the islands.” Chickens “were thought to be forms of the mo’o (reptile) class of ancestral gods (‘aumakua.’) Their greatest importance to Hawaiians was their use as offerings to temple gods and to family gods.”
Chickens were apparently less prized by ancient Hawaiians for food. The Bishop Museum bulletin quotes an account by Hawaiian scholar Mary Kawena Pukui who noted that when she was a child, older Hawaiians refrained from eating eggs. “It would be like eating the hen’s unborn baby,” Pukui’s grandmother told her. The bulletin continues, “Probably Hawaiians regarded their chickens as second-rate fare because chicken meat steamed in an imu is less flavorful for eating with poi than is good fish.”
The mission of the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association is “the preservation and perpetuation of gamefowl. To this end, we dedicate ourselves to the education of all who wish to know the essence of this ancient associate of mankind.”
Chickens as Power Animals
I liked those words -”ancient associate.” I kept looking for my own favorite associates – Malays and Shamos, which I used to breed on the continent. They originated as jungle fowl in the trees of Asia. I wasn’t able to bring any from my farm when I moved here. I miss them, and have not yet been able to find any here.
What I like about the Malays and Shamos is their regal dignity. They stand tall, with long necks and sturdy legs. They strut about as if they are the kings of the forest. And do they like to fly, shooting off into my berry patch. The males love to chase after the females, who seem to delight when caught and mounted. Then they ruffle their feathers in that distinctly chicken post-coital activity. Hens can also be quite fierce, spreading their wings over their chicks to protect them. I once saw a Malay hen rise up and back off a hawk.
“That chicken looks like a little dinosaur,” children would squel as they watched Malays and Shamos walk around with such tiny strength. Recent scientific research has documented that today’s birds did in fact evolve from dinosaurs.
During the years that I visited Hawai’i, before moving here, I delighted in watching feral chickens scamper about enthusiastically in lower Puna. Upon deciding to settle here, I chose a place with a substantial chicken population: Hawaiian Paradise Park. Though some of my neighbors are not thrilled with chicken sounds, which I can understand, I appreciate them, in moderation.
I hear chickens each morning. If chickens did not herald the dawn, it could mean the fabled End of the World, as Chicken Little warned. It is likely that poultry will outlast humans, at least at the rate we are currently going. Chickens are here to stay, in Hawai’i and elsewhere.
Though predators such as eagles and big cats get the glory, I appreciate prey with the alertness and wisdom that keeps them alive in a hostile world. Being mighty may seem fun, but Top Guns, like Top Roosters, inevitably get taken down. Being lowly and staying among the grass, as an ancient Hawaiian proverb recommends, has certain values. “The nail that stands up gets hammered first,” runs another proverb.
I think of chickens as my “power animal” or guide to a higher power. Go ahead, laugh, especially if your animal is a noble dolphin, whale, bear, or hawk. A good laugh does us all good, which is another reason why chickens are here. They are, indeed, laughable, as are those who care for them. Chickens can be comically batty and loony, especially as they flee in all directions to escape a predator. Ever try to catch a chicken? It’s harder than it looks. If its one person on one chicken, the chicken usually wins, unless that taller two-legged grabs a net. They can be very deceptive and amazing at getting out of corners. They seem to be masterful at the martial arts, especially aikido, which is the art of defensively blending with energy and integrating it.
A day without a chicken sound, for me, is like a day without the sun. That sound awakens something within me and comforts me. I am glad, however, that there are not too many chickens among my neighbors, and that they are not right next door.
Hilo’s chicken day was scheduled to last until 3 p.m. I only hung around for a couple of hours. I came mainly to see the chickens and walk among them. A licensed game bird farmer spoke about “Take This Bird and Ship It,” but it was too commercial for me. A judge awarded trophies for the outstanding birds. He explained that he was “looking for stance and feathering in these show birds.” I left the day with pleasant memories of observing and caring for chickens over the years.
Hawaii Island Pages
Keeping current with issues that matter most in Hawaii.
Chicken Scratch
by ADMIN on FEBRUARY 5, 2010
Chicken Talk Story
by Shepherd Bliss
First you hear their sounds. Then you see a man affectionately stroking a colorful bird. I came early, but a few dozen people were already gathering around the Mo’oheau Bandstand in downtown Hilo one recent Sunday morning. I was one of the first haoles to arrive.
“What are all these chickens doing here?” inquired a large Polynesian-looking woman. “I was walking by, heard all the commotion, and wondered what was happening.”
I showed her the flyer for this Third Annual Poultry Symposium, sponsored by the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association in cooperation with the University of Hawai’i Cooperative Extension Service.
“Sometimes I wish that I were a chicken,” the woman mused.
She continued to pose probing, graceful questions in colorful pidgin. Her shorter friend nodded in support. Being the chicken lover that this reporter is, he was glad to respond to her questions and keep the chicken talk going. I’ve enjoyed hours over many decades engaging in chicken talk. We chicken lovers find each other and can tell umpteen chicken stories and talk up a storm about our animal of choice.
Talking chicken was an important thing that happened that Sunday morning in Hilo, while others were in church doing God talk. We didn’t sit down on pews, but meandered casually about looking at birds and sometimes even chatting with them. Chickens have long been seen as divine animals, especially in Asia. They can be more than meets the eye, though their beauty is often pleasing to the eye. By carefully looking at any creature or natural element deeply, one can see the Nature of which they are an integral part.
“They’re so cute,” the first woman observed. I agreed. They also seemed relaxed, getting all that stroking. We could all benefit from such petting and attention.
An hour later this inquisitive duo was still wandering around among the chickens. The two finally walked off toward the nearby farmers’ market across the street, more happy for having spent quality chicken time.
By observing simple chickens, humans can learn a lot about the world, ourselves, and our appropriate role within Nature. Electricity had not made it to our family farm in rural Iowa by the mid-1950s. So instead of watching TV, we watched chickens and other barnyard animals and told stories about them and other creatures at night, illuminated by gas lanterns. Chickens populated my childhood dreams and remain deep within my psyche.
Years later, at Kokopelli Farm in Northern California, I gathered a diverse flock of Silkies, Cochins, Polish, Aracaunas, Rhode Island Reds and other regular and unusual breeds. These differently-colored breeds got along much better than do the different races of that taller two-legged animal. Furthermore, they delighted customers with their chicken antics and provided tasty orange-yolked eggs from all the free-range eating that they did.
Being a Chicken Man
OK. I admit it. I’m a chicken man. I think that they’re beautiful, highly communicative, wise, useful, entertaining and socially responsible. Sometimes they do dumb things, but they’re not dumb animals, especially when compared to that other, taller biped. Chickens can teach us humility, being so lowly, yet able to rise. Chickens do not have that human tendency to get inflated, arrogant, and prideful.
We evolved from chickens, you know. Before we were apes, we were chickens. Or at least that is how I feel about it, but I’m not a scientist. Watch chickens closely and see who they might remind you of, flapping their wings, talking up a story, and having such a short attention span before they dash off. Got any friends like that?
Linguists contend that chickens actually say about two dozen distinct things, which translated into English are phrases like “predator-in the sky,” “food-over here,” and “sex-I want it now.” Oh, for such a simple life of walking and flying around, eating and having sex. It looks easy enough, so I’ve tried to flap my unfeathered arms, but I never lift off the ground.
I was, however, recently threatened by a Journal reader with being “tarred, feathered, and run out of town” for a post-election article on darkness. I wouldn’t mind the feathers, thank you, but I could do without the hot tar. I rather like Hilo town, especially with chickens running around.
Chickens recognize at least 80 distinct members of a flock and have a complex social organization. Though called a “pecking order,” it is more complicated than that and can change swiftly. Chickens are smarter than you probably think, having a special kind of chicken wisdom. As prey, they must learn to survive in an often-hostile world. Yet they continue to multiply, especially here on the islands. We have more chickens in my neighborhood than humans, which is fine with me.
Chickens often seem to be eating, but they don’t eat too much. Have you ever seen a fat chicken? Left to their own, chickens know which are the healthy foods for them, unlike their taller, too-often fatter descendent.
Chickens eat bugs, grass, human throwaways and all kinds of things that they can get into their pecking beaks. They adore berries, tomatoes, and watermelon. Chickens eat so many diverse things that they might be useful in reducing that loud, pesty, growing coqui frog population. (Now, there’s a noise problem.) Chickens transform this mix of food and refuse into jewels-eggs that can be delicious as well as nutritious. Artists and philosophers have long contemplated chicken eggs as a beautiful and even divine form.
Chickens know how to have fun, scratching and dancing about as they do, snuggling into the Earth. Watching them as a child, and now as an adult, has enabled me to be more playful. “Lighten up” seems to be a message that chickens naturally communicate, even in the face of impending death, to which they seem to surrender.
Chickens are more entertaining than TV. I still don’t have a TV, so I enjoy engaging with chickens, as well as other animals.
Chickens in Hawai’i
At most of the many chicken gatherings I’ve attended over the decades, the beautiful hens outnumber the loud cocks. But here on the Big Island, more cocks attended this symposium. More males than females were among the some fifty humans who came. Many walked around with chickens firmly cradled in their arms. Many birds had that content look, as if they were about to purr.
“Chickens like to be touched,” explained Halyna Kuheana, president of the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association. “If you massage their cheeks and they close their eyes, you’ve made a friend. Chickens are great for children. They go from an egg to an adult in two years. Kids can learn about life from them. Chickens can be great teachers. People don’t give them enough credit.”
On this day one could learn about the pleasures and challenges of having poultry. One could learn about the history of chickens here in Hawai’i and elsewhere, alternative methods of breeding and raising them, and dealing with diseases and other problems.
Among the displays at this event was a graphic of the Hilinia Pali Petroglyph Cave from AD 1600 to 1800. According to the Bishop Museum, a detail shows “Fighting Cocks and Spectators.” The sign says that it is “photographic evidence of Hawaiian cockfighting given by David Malo in his book Hawaiian Antiquities, 1951.”
Other colorful posters revealed interesting facts. For example, the cock spur, mao kakala, was used in Hawaiian war weapons. Today the spurs are used by male dancers during Hawaiian chants.
A handout from the Bernice P. Bishop Museum reviewed the history of “Gamefowl in Hawaiian Culture.” It noted that Polynesian chickens (moa) “were brought from Malaysia to Polynesia, where they were found in all the islands except New Zealand.” The bulletin excerpt continued, “The Hawaiian fowl is traditionally identified with the Lomo-Pele migration, specifically with ‘Olopana, paramount chief of Ko’ohau on Oahu.”
“In old Hawaiian times,” the handout added, “there were both wild and domesticated chickens in Ka’u and doubtless throughout the islands.” Chickens “were thought to be forms of the mo’o (reptile) class of ancestral gods (‘aumakua.’) Their greatest importance to Hawaiians was their use as offerings to temple gods and to family gods.”
Chickens were apparently less prized by ancient Hawaiians for food. The Bishop Museum bulletin quotes an account by Hawaiian scholar Mary Kawena Pukui who noted that when she was a child, older Hawaiians refrained from eating eggs. “It would be like eating the hen’s unborn baby,” Pukui’s grandmother told her. The bulletin continues, “Probably Hawaiians regarded their chickens as second-rate fare because chicken meat steamed in an imu is less flavorful for eating with poi than is good fish.”
The mission of the Big Island Gamefowl Breeders Association is “the preservation and perpetuation of gamefowl. To this end, we dedicate ourselves to the education of all who wish to know the essence of this ancient associate of mankind.”
Chickens as Power Animals
I liked those words -”ancient associate.” I kept looking for my own favorite associates – Malays and Shamos, which I used to breed on the continent. They originated as jungle fowl in the trees of Asia. I wasn’t able to bring any from my farm when I moved here. I miss them, and have not yet been able to find any here.
What I like about the Malays and Shamos is their regal dignity. They stand tall, with long necks and sturdy legs. They strut about as if they are the kings of the forest. And do they like to fly, shooting off into my berry patch. The males love to chase after the females, who seem to delight when caught and mounted. Then they ruffle their feathers in that distinctly chicken post-coital activity. Hens can also be quite fierce, spreading their wings over their chicks to protect them. I once saw a Malay hen rise up and back off a hawk.
“That chicken looks like a little dinosaur,” children would squel as they watched Malays and Shamos walk around with such tiny strength. Recent scientific research has documented that today’s birds did in fact evolve from dinosaurs.
During the years that I visited Hawai’i, before moving here, I delighted in watching feral chickens scamper about enthusiastically in lower Puna. Upon deciding to settle here, I chose a place with a substantial chicken population: Hawaiian Paradise Park. Though some of my neighbors are not thrilled with chicken sounds, which I can understand, I appreciate them, in moderation.
I hear chickens each morning. If chickens did not herald the dawn, it could mean the fabled End of the World, as Chicken Little warned. It is likely that poultry will outlast humans, at least at the rate we are currently going. Chickens are here to stay, in Hawai’i and elsewhere.
Though predators such as eagles and big cats get the glory, I appreciate prey with the alertness and wisdom that keeps them alive in a hostile world. Being mighty may seem fun, but Top Guns, like Top Roosters, inevitably get taken down. Being lowly and staying among the grass, as an ancient Hawaiian proverb recommends, has certain values. “The nail that stands up gets hammered first,” runs another proverb.
I think of chickens as my “power animal” or guide to a higher power. Go ahead, laugh, especially if your animal is a noble dolphin, whale, bear, or hawk. A good laugh does us all good, which is another reason why chickens are here. They are, indeed, laughable, as are those who care for them. Chickens can be comically batty and loony, especially as they flee in all directions to escape a predator. Ever try to catch a chicken? It’s harder than it looks. If its one person on one chicken, the chicken usually wins, unless that taller two-legged grabs a net. They can be very deceptive and amazing at getting out of corners. They seem to be masterful at the martial arts, especially aikido, which is the art of defensively blending with energy and integrating it.
A day without a chicken sound, for me, is like a day without the sun. That sound awakens something within me and comforts me. I am glad, however, that there are not too many chickens among my neighbors, and that they are not right next door.
Hilo’s chicken day was scheduled to last until 3 p.m. I only hung around for a couple of hours. I came mainly to see the chickens and walk among them. A licensed game bird farmer spoke about “Take This Bird and Ship It,” but it was too commercial for me. A judge awarded trophies for the outstanding birds. He explained that he was “looking for stance and feathering in these show birds.” I left the day with pleasant memories of observing and caring for chickens over the years.
Hawaii Island Pages