How to make a chicken squawk

Hurray, I am an ATM at last! (That’s Advanced Toastmaster.) My speech “How to Make a Chicken Squawk” completed the requirements in the manual. It went over very well, but it could have been a disaster. I had rehearsed it thoroughly, and had everything prepared. I checked several times during the afternoon to make sure I had everything ready. Then, at the last minute, when I was getting ready to leave, I put on my jacket and thought “I hate these shoulder pads.” I grabbed the scissors out of the box I was taking to Toastmasters.

“I’ll put them straight back” I told myself as I snipped out the shoulder pads. But when I began my demonstration – you guessed it – no scissors!!! Luckily I had prepared extra pieces, already cut, so I was able to continue.

It just demonstrates the importance of being totally prepared. It was good that I had provided back ups in case of the unforeseen happening – but I should have been more prepared with what I was going to wear. I changed my mind and outfit at the last minute.

Another thing to bear in mind is the importance of rehearsing out loud. When I wrote my speech, I had written “you’ll need quick drying craft glue.” When I rehearsed it, I found I kept saying, “quick drying claft grue!” Try saying it. It’s a real tongue twister! On the night, I shortened it to just “glue.”

We usually have a small raffle at our meetings. This week our Raffle Master brought a large bag.

“What makes the best fertiliser for the garden?” she asked.

“Don’t tell me she’s raffling a bag a cow manure!” I thought.

She triumphantly produced a large bottle of – Liquid Worm Castings!

“But wait, there’s more,” she said.

And pulled out a container of – Pure Worm Castings!

“But wait, there’s more……”

The Toastmaster beside me muttered, “If she pulls out live worms, I’m leaving!”

But it was a plastic spoon for applying the stuff.

It was a very popular raffle. I think everyone bought tickets. One of the men expressed the sentiments of us all when he said, “If someone told me I’d buy three tickets for a bottle of worm piddle, I wouldn’t have believed it!”

We farewelled our president as it was her last meeting before she goes to Egypt. We’ll miss her. She’s always so bright and enthusiastic and makes our meetings sparkle.

It was another bright funfilled meeting. But the exciting part was when they drew the raffle.

I won the bottle of worm piddle!

Winter has come

The weather forecast for the weekend was “cold.”

“Ha!” I thought on Saturday, baring my limbs in the sticky heat. “They’ve got it wrong again!”

But overnight, winter suddenly arrived with a vengeance. I dug out my track pants, my fleecy jacket and warm socks. The cold wind is blowing straight off the snow that has been falling in New South Wales and Victoria. They’re really having weather there!

The cats go crazy in windy weather. Ingrid has been prancing around with her tail cocked behind her. She grabbed me around the leg as I walked past her before. Buddy began to dig one of his perfunctionary holes in the yard, then the mania overcame him and he decided he’d dig right through to China. He might have got there, too, if he hadn’t been distracted by the sound of a spoon against his food bowl.

Date presented: 23rd May, 2000

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The objectives of this speech were:  

• To prepare a demonstration speech to clearly explain a process, product or activity.
• conduct the demonstration as part of a speech delivered without notes.

Time 10 to 12 minutes.

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How to Make a Chicken Squawk

(Before the speech, I placed a small Easter Chicken in each person’s place at the table.) I’d like you to pick up the little chicken in front of you and cradle it gently in your hand. Can you remember doing that as a child? Have you seen the look of wonder and joy on a child’s face as he holds a chicken for the first time?

Have you seen his parent’s hover anxiously, saying, “Be very gentle now – don’t hurt it!”

And yet, chickens are often viewed by adults as a commodity and allowed to be kept in the cruelest conditions in battery farms. All for the sake of the mighty dollar.

I’m going to show you how to make a simple toy to entertain your children or grandchildren. While they are playing with it, you can explain to them that the suffering of these creatures must not be allowed to continue into their generation.

You will need a disposable plastic cup, some small pieces of felt, a piece of fine string or knitting cotton -say about 60 centimetres long, a small piece of spongecloth like Wettex, a darning needle, black marking pen, scissors and glue – Oh, and a small amount of magic formula. (show small plastic container)

We are going to turn this cup into a chicken. This is going to be a happy chicken, because it is not kept in a tiny cramped cage like the battery hens. Have you ever heard the pandemonium in a battery hen house? The squawking is deafening as thousands of hens shriek in fear and frustration.

But lets cut out the felt shapes first. They’re rather small for you to see easily, so I’ve cut some larger shapes from paper just to show you what they look like. You will need two identical pieces shaped like wings. From another piece, cut a longish little diamond shape for the beak and a square piece for the comb on the chicken’s head. While you at it, cut a small rectangular piece from the spongecloth.

Now we are ready. Take the wing shapes and cut a few slits along the outer edge to give the impression of feathers. Glue them about halfway down on either side of the cup. A happy chicken has room to spread her wings. I once had a pet bantam hen. She used to flap her way up our stairs, hop up onto my dressing table and look into the mirror as she preened her feathers.

A battery-farmed chicken is not able to spread her wings; she is not able to exercise. The law allows her approximately 450square centimetres of space, roughly two thirds of the area of a sheet of A4 paper. And only just enough height for her to stand. This causes a lot of stress. The chickens become aggressive and peck at one another.

My bantam hen used run freely around the yard, pecking at little bugs in the grass.

Now take the little diamond shaped piece, fold it over in half, and crease it as sharply as you can, so that it stays folded and looks like a chicken’s beak. She’ll need her beak to eat and drink properly and to preen her feathers.

Glue the bottom half of the beak between and slightly above the wings. At the front, that is – if you glue it on the back, it will look like something else. Battery hens are debeaked with a hot machine blade. Did you know that between the horn and bone of the beak is a thick layer of highly sensitive tissue, something like the ‘quick’ of the human nail. The hot knife cuts through this sensitive tissue, and causes severe pain, which might last for the rest of her short life.

A happy healthy chicken has a bright red comb. Take the square piece of felt, fold it over in half and cut slits along the edge, but not all the way through. Open it up and tie one end of the string tightly around the centre.

To be happy and healthy, every living creature is entitled to the five freedoms:

Freedom from thirst, hunger and malnutrition
Freedom from discomfort
Freedom from pain, injury and disease
Freedom to express normal behaviour
Freedom from fear and distress

All of these are denied to a battery chicken.

Thread the other end of the string through the darning needle and push the needle through the outside top of the plastic cup. If the cup is too hard to push through, you can soften it by pouring hot water into it and letting it stand for a few minutes. I’ve already made a small hole in this one. Glue the comb to the top of the cup and let the string hang down through the middle. The life of a chicken hangs on a fine thread. Take the needle off the end of the string.

Remember the little piece of spongecloth? Fold it over lengthwise and tie it on the end of the string.

A battery hen only lives for about 12 months – that’s about a third of her natural life span. But for her that is 12 months too long. After that she becomes a spent hen. She is slaughtered and will probably end up in catfood or as flavouring in your soup.

Our chicken is almost finished, but it needs eyes. Use the black marking pen to draw eyes on the front, just above the wings. This chicken is looking hopeful, because more people are becoming aware of the plight of battery hens and are willing to pay a little more to ensure the eggs they buy are from free-range chickens.

Remember, every time you buy eggs, you are casting your vote. If you just keep buying the cheapest eggs, you are voting that the daily suffering of 11 million hens will continue.

But every time you buy free-range eggs, you are sending the message that this cruel practice has to be stopped.

And that’s enough to make a chicken squawk. But this time she is squawking for joy. But wait – she just needs a drop of the magic formula. This is the most precious substance on earth, but fortunately it is still readily available in our part of the world. You can get some from your own kitchen tap.

Just dip the piece of spongecloth on the end of the string into the secret formula. Squeeze it out. Now, hold up the chicken in one hand, and use the other hand to wrap the spongecloth around the string close to the cup. Grasp the string firmly with it, and slide the cloth down the string in little jerky movements.

(The chicken will make a “clucking” noise).

We all know what it means when a happy chicken makes that sound!

(Hold up egg – it’s an empty shell, but they don’t know that)

Do you like eggs?

Here …………. catch!

(Throw egg into audience.)

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COMMENTS
This speech went over really well, and several people said they would buy free range eggs from now on.
(See my May Newsletter for more about the speech and the meeting) 

Brainstorm

“Well, that’s all the business for this month,” I said.

“Meeting closed,” suggested someone.

“Hang on,” I said, “What are we going to do next month? We haven’t had a social morning for a while.”

“What do you usually do?” asked a new member.

“Trivia!” chorused several.

“I wouldn’t mind if we always had Trivia mornings – they’re such fun,” I said, “but perhaps we should do something different – let’s have a brainstorm.”

“Write down Trivia to start off.”

I wrote “Trivia Morning” on the whiteboard.

“What else?” I asked.

“I don’t know, my mind is so rusty.”

I wrote “rusty” on the whiteboard.

“Old things!” said someone.

“Get everyone to bring something old that they treasure and talk about it.”

“Something from the past.”

“Something from their childhood.”

“Tell stories from their childhood.”

“Mary could tell about her trip on the tram to the markets.”

Hoots of laughter.

“You’ve heard it before,” protested Mary.

“No we haven’t, ” said several, “Let’s hear it!”

“Now?”

So Mary told her story again, with more embellishments than last time.

“Ooh, let’s have a morning with stories like that,” said someone.

“Yes, stories from the past.”

“A Nostalgia Morning!”

“And bring something old!”

“Can we bring our husbands?”

So that’s what our World Vision Club is doing next month.

Toastmasters shocks

At the Toastmasters meeting before last, one of the men, a dyed in the wool bachelor (or so we thought) dropped a bombshell when he announced he was getting married. We were still reeling from this news at our last meeting, when our president announced that next meeting will be her last because she has taken a position as a tour guide – in Egypt!

I whispered to the Toastmaster sitting beside me, “That’s two shocks – I wonder what news we’ll hear next meeting!”

She whispered back, “Did I tell you about my sex change operation?”

Mother’s Day

Mothers Day, yesterday. We all went to Mum and Dad’s place. The kids had a great time. Shea looked good with her new short hairdo. Robert and Callum dressed up as “Super Heroes” and “flew” around the house in old swimming costumes and transparent capes, which were once frilly negligees. Miles raced after them, in a ragged fairy dress, waving a “sword” of cardboard tubing. It was a bit overwhelming for Matthew, who climbed up his father’s legs and clung like a little koala.

It didn’t take long to restore the house back to normal after they all left.

Enjoy your garbage

I always intend to go to bed early – or at least earlier. But I never do. Even if I don’t turn on the computer, I always seem to spend extra hours pottering about. I’m usually the second last person in the street to turn out my lights. The last person is my neighbour across the street. I always look out before I turn in, and think, “Well at least I’m not the last one up.”

Last night I was still up after my neighbour turned out his light. It’s an eerie feeling, sitting in a pool of light, while the rest of the neighbourhood shelters in the dark. I had just undressed, ready for a relaxing hot shower, when I remembered – I hadn’t put out the wheelie bin.

On Sunday nights, we wheel out our big rubbish bins and leave them to stand like sentinels along the kerbside where they are scooped up and emptied very early on Monday morning – usually before I am awake. Sometimes the big garbage truck comes late, but that never happens if I haven’t put the bin out the night before.

So, I scrambled back into some clothes and went out into the dark night. My neighbours probably dreamt of an approaching thunderstorm as the bin rumbled by under their bedroom window. (You might think this is leading up to a thrilling suspense story – well, I’m sorry, it has been a slow week!)

This morning I went out to bring in my bin. Someone once dumped some rotten meat in it after it had been emptied so I try to bring it in as soon as I can. I dragged it halfway up the driveway before I realised – it still hadn’t been emptied! It didn’t have much in it this week. So this morning I’ve been trimming branches off shrubs to make use of the space in my bin. Two kinds of waste I can’t abide are not using up all my ISP’s allotted Internet hours and not filling up my wheelie bin!

Well, the big blue Cleanaway truck has just been and emptied the bins – at midday! I never noticed before (probably because I’m usually still in bed) but on the back of the truck is a big yellow smiley face with the message, “Enjoy your garbage.”

I’ve been trying to get some inspirational message from it, but I give up!

We also have a bin for recyclable things – newspapers, bottles, etc. These are emptied every second week. I don’t bother trying to remember which week it is. I just look down the road, and if everyone is putting out their “yellow” bins, (they have yellow lids) I do likewise. Evidently other people work on the same system. Last week, Mum put out her “yellow” bin by mistake and next morning there were half a dozen other recycling bins waiting along the street for a truck that never came.

Then there’s the woman up the road who broke her arm when she fell out of her wheelie bin! She got in to tread down some garden waste and it toppled over.

This is all just a load of garbage. I hope you enjoy it.

Spooked

Brisbane has been holding its breath this week. On Monday, three police officers attended a call involving a neighbourhood dispute and were all shot and seriously wounded. The gunman, who calls himself Jesse James, is still at large, heavily armed and promising to kill as many people as he can.

Schools in the immediate neighbourhood were closed for a few days and residents stayed locked in their houses while police conducted a thorough search. Now they think he might have gone interstate.

He could be anywhere. I’m not expecting him to turn up in my suburb, but it has made us all more security conscious.

I was thinking about him when I arrived home late the other night. The cats usually wait for me, one on either side of the driveway, like a compressed receiving line. When I see the cats there, I always think, “It’s safe. The cats would be hiding if anyone was lurking about.”

But this particular night, the cats were nowhere in sight. I drove in cautiously, feeling rather spooked. Maybe if I reversed the car around near the front steps, I could make a quick dash into the house…….

Then Buddy and Ingrid appeared from under the house, blinking sleepily in the headlights. Phew! All was well. I proceeded on to the garage. I got out and opened the garage door.

Suddenly Buddy streaked under the house as if something was after him.

I dived back into the car. Was there someone in the bushes? What should I do now?
I could stay in the car all night.
I could back out and drive away – leaving the garage door wide open and all its junk on display.
I could make a wild dash for the house.
Or I could put the car away and nonchalantly walk out of the garage as if I suspected nothing.

I decided on the latter. After all, Ingrid still seemed unconcerned, though I couldn’t really trust her judgement – sometimes she gets quite soppy over strangers.

When I reached my front door, Buddy was sitting there calmly waiting for me.

And I’ll swear that cat was grinning!

A pleasant Sunday afternoon

Yesterday, Relle drove Mum and me out to Lea and David’s place on the other side of town – about an hour’s drive. Their house is in a lovely bush setting. The view from the big front windows is like an impressionist painting – tall silver Gum Trees in the foreground and a hazy, tree covered mountain rising behind them.

Another image etched in my mind is 6-year-old Robert’s glorious red hair highlighted in the late afternoon sun and accentuated by his black batman suit as he rolled down the green grassy slope. And his baby brother Matthew rolling after him, chortling with glee – or strutting around on his short little legs. He always walks with a bit of a swagger, swinging his little arms and with a purposeful stride. He still doesn’t say much, but he knows where he’s going!

An exciting game

I saw my other little nephew, Callum this week, too. Jan left him with Mum and Dad while she went to a meeting, so I went down and spent the afternoon with him. We spent most of the afternoon playing UNO. (A card game) Callum is really good at it. He’s funny to watch, because he gets so excited when he wins. I couldn’t help thinking how funny it would look if adults were as expressive as he is!

Locked in

Our World Vision Club is holding another Street Stall this week. It’s only a few weeks since the last one, but we always have one just before Mother’s Day because there are lots of people out shopping. I made some biscuits for the stall yesterday. I had to go out in the middle of mixing them and buy more flour. It pays to check the ingredients first! Poor Buddy must have run to meet me when I returned but I didn’t notice him when I closed the garage, so he was locked in all morning. I wondered why he hadn’t come in for his breakfast.

Bye, bye.

At the Jumble Sale this week, some of us were out the back in the kitchen having morning tea when Frances (my daughter-in-law) popped in with Miles. Miles is a bit shy with the other ladies, but he sat up on a chair beside me and had a biscuit. When it was time to go, Frances said to him “Say Goodbye.”

Miles gave me a sticky kiss, then patted the chair he had been sitting on and said, “Bye, bye, chair!”

Famine in Australia

We’re preparing for a famine here – the World Vision 40 hour Famine. Participants find people to sponsor them to go without food (or for those who can’t fast, it could be TV, the Internet or some other luxury) from 8pm Friday, May 19 to 12pm Sunday May 21. The money raised helps those for whom famine is an everyday reality.

You can find out more about it at http://www.myworldvision.com