“Let’s build a wall between us and our neighbors,” says the Fox.
“Okay,” says the farmer.
“Oh, and build a mote around it, and put alligators in it.”
“Alligators? That’s not a good idea.”
“Shoot the people if they come over to our side of the fence.”
“But Mr. Fox, you can’t kill your neighbors. It’s against the law.”
“Well, shoot them in the leg.”
“Mr. Fox, you can’t go around shooting people, that’s against the law too.”
“Really? But, I’m The Fox, I can do anything.”
The farmer, because he was fed up with the way things were going and wanted a change, invited the Fox into his chicken house. (He has roosters too.)
He believed the story when the fox told him he would clean up the hutch, put in new straw, keep out the riff-Raff. The chickens would have a better life, he said. He would throw a few crumbs their way and the chickens would be happy.
The farmer was so enamored with the Fox that he forgot that the fox ate chickens.
And so the story goes…
This came to my attention yesterday: A sixty-five-year-old woman fears that she might be sent back to Germany in the sweep to clean up the chicken house.
She was adopted as an infant but does not have papers to prove it.
Her folks are gone, what does she have now to prove she has lived in the chicken house for over sixty years? She provided eggs for the farmer and thought she belonged.
And the hapless farmer, fearing repercussions from The Fox, has orders to pull baby chicks from beneath their mommas on cold nights and leave them to their own devices.
We have to help that farmer. He has lost his marbles.
And get that frick’en Fox out of the hen house!
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