Hitch Hikers Guide to chickens
I got this scar today by not obeying the first rule of the Hitch
Hikers Guide to chickens which is to always have a clean towel
handy.
This round of chicken
catching was twice as difficult due to their increased size and speed.
One of the more aggresive
roosters jumped up and karate chopped me during my first attempt.
Once I took a moment to catch my breath it became obvious where I went
wrong. No towel.
A good sized towel can act as
a shield/net when you're going up against a coop full of roosters.
Once I developed my towel
technique it started to feel similar to what you see during a bull
fight, minus the sword and dangerous horns, but those chicken claws are
nothing to sneeze at.
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About us: Anna Hess and Mark Hamilton spent over a decade living self-sufficiently in the mountains of Virginia before moving north to start over from scratch in the foothills of Ohio. They've experimented with permaculture, no-till gardening, trailersteading, home-based microbusinesses and much more, writing about their adventures in both blogs and books.
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The original quotation that referenced the greatness of towels is found in Chapter 3 of Adams' work The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
“ A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with. ”
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Hey, you've got a perfectly good start for a horror-movie scenario here;
The finale of course would be a chicken pecking at the lens of a discarded video camera, with a motionless body lying in the background.