Russell Studebaker and Miss Fluffy his alpha Silkie hen. Miss F is wearing Sammy Wholon and her nails are painted to match.
A 2-piece gourd by Jan Meng.
Chicks of all species love Russell. The Poultry Pasha was keeping an urban flock before it became a gentrified practice. He is paid cash money for crowing to audiences about the joy of chicken husbandry, and it ain’t chicken feed.
He loves his chickens a bushel and a peck. He invests in tres chic haute hen couture and takes his chick out only when she’s all decked out.
We love poultry at the Holler too. Stu was our beloved Australorp rooster. He was so black his feathers glistened green in the sun. Ninety percent of the time he was a perfect gentleman. That other 10 percent of the time he was a rangy basterd and a lawsuit waiting to happen. The last straw was when the ZSM looked up from mowing pasture rings to see Stu hot on the heels of three well-coiffed ladies as they ran for the sanctuary of the Cottage Gallery. Stu went to live up the highway that very day. We removed the bling in his comb. Yes, I pierced his comb. But his nails retained their red polish. I polished his nails every four days or so to match his orange-red comb. He didn’t mind at all. The warmth of the blow dryer on his wet nails put him in the trance chickens experience when you hold them just so. He was a bit of a fop, but was super hard on his manicure (pedicure?).
Chickens are in my heart so they’re in my art.