You think a place is perfect. Key West,
for example. Tropical, laid-back. Then you learn of the
The tiny island of Key West off the southern tip of Florida has
long been regarded as a tropical Shangri-La, a palm-shaded
Margaritaville for outlaws, bohemians, and weekend hedonists. But
there is trouble in paradise.
"Key West panel eyes plans to corral 1,600 wild chickens," blares
"Fed up with complaints about wild hens and roosters overrunning
local neighborhoods and parks," says the lead paragraph of the
Knight Ridder story, "the Key West City Commission has approved a
plan that, in concept, calls for a mass roundup and relocation of
the pesky birds."
Note the use of the term "in concept." Myself, I would think that
there'd be nothing conceptual about chicken herding. You would
either do it or you wouldn't. "In concept," then, is probably a
euphemism for "if we can actually pull this thing off."
I mean, I don't know a lot about chicken corralling, but I would
think that you don't herd them as easily as you do, say, cattle or
sheep or American consumers. I imagine squawking poultry running
around the countryside like, well, like chickens with their heads
cut off, except their heads would still be on, presumably, while
guys on horseback spin lassos over their heads as their mounts
abruptly rear up, since they constantly have to change direction in
pursuit of the marauding poultry.
"Although many locals and tourists consider the free-roaming
chickens part of Key West's uniqueness and charm," the article
continues, "some residents are ruffled by the constant crowing and
daily droppings in their yards, and want the birds removed."
Key West Assistant City Manager John Jones is one of the ruffled