When we moved to a house in Solok Mansion, there were two chickens left by the previous tenants. One of them was black and the other is brown. We named the first Black Chicken and the second Hatching. The latter one was predictably wanting to hatch after every clutch of eggs. Nothing would get it out of the stupor of wanting to appropriate any egg in sight for hatching.
Until that month, we knew nothing about live chickens. But soon we realized what efficient garbage disposal machines they are. Apart from onion skin, just about any scraps from the kitchen were fair game for the chickens to eat. If there were eight adult chickens in the garden, they would run and rush at any scraps. Even fish heads were pecked at until only the biggest part of the head bone would be left like a miss shaped round pearl. Back bones would be pecked and repeated hitting actions would reduce it to small bones and therefore would be swallowed.
Once my husband threw out half a watermelon that was scooped out. A few hours later the red parts were eaten with gusto. Even the white part of the flesh was soon eaten, all that was left was the green skin, it soon dried up and became wrinkled bits. For as long as we were in that house, there was no kitchen waste. My trash was really all dry as the troop of chickens cleared up any food remnants.
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