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oliviak07's review against another edition
3.0
What will come across as a mix between column and short story, William Grimes's "My Fine Feathered Friend" was a delightful, comical, and nostalgic read as someone who raised chickens for nearly ten years!
Animals, like cute babies, sell books. Grimes's narrative about the sudden appearance, and disappearance, of the large black chicken in his NYC neighborhood is charming, and will make your mind, funny bone, heart, and stomach growl for more.
Animals, like cute babies, sell books. Grimes's narrative about the sudden appearance, and disappearance, of the large black chicken in his NYC neighborhood is charming, and will make your mind, funny bone, heart, and stomach growl for more.
books_n_pickles's review against another edition
3.0
How could I resist this amusing little read on the take shelf, especially when the Chicken in question apparently appeared in the author's backyard in my own neighborhood? I know of two live poultry sellers in walking distance, though I've only ever seen white-feathered chickens at them.
Anyway, the book:
William Grimes, a restaurant reviewer for The New York Times, more familiar with eating the birds than seeing them, has an inexplicable chicken show up for a share of the cat food that he and his wife leave out for neighborhood strays. The Chicken, as they dub it (should you be allowed to write for The New York Times if you can't come up with a clever name for a randomly appearing animal?), inspires affection and a little research, with a fresh egg here and there, in exchange for its share of cat food and, later, chicken feed.
Just as a chicken may fluff out its feathers for warmth in the winter, Grimes fluffs out his cute little story with some facts about chickens. Of my favorites:
> Chickens only lay eggs if they get about 14 hours of sunlight, which means eggs have not been ubiquitous in human history.
> Chickens were long valued more for their feathers than their meat.
> When the first chicken broke the record of laying more than 300 eggs a year (1914), she got a victory parade and a private train car into New York City to visit the mayor, "who presented her with a diamond-studded gold leg band" (p. 56). Sheesh!
The Chicken of Astoria thus joins the ranks of Benjamin Jones (RIP), the Vicious Chicken of Bristol, Rosalinda, and Gallus Rostromegalus as one of my favorite chickens. Huh. Not a sentence that I thought would need a serial comma...
Edit, 10/8: I can't believe this, but I thought of two more fictional chickens! Josefina from [b:The Josefina Story Quilt|1095697|The Josefina Story Quilt|Eleanor Coerr|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1344750300l/1095697._SY75_.jpg|1082532] and Billina from [b:Ozma of Oz|60177|Ozma of Oz (Oz, #3)|L. Frank Baum|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1170538598l/60177._SY75_.jpg|891152] (whose name I could have sworn was Billerica, like the city, but oh well...).
Anyway, the book:
William Grimes, a restaurant reviewer for The New York Times, more familiar with eating the birds than seeing them, has an inexplicable chicken show up for a share of the cat food that he and his wife leave out for neighborhood strays. The Chicken, as they dub it (should you be allowed to write for The New York Times if you can't come up with a clever name for a randomly appearing animal?), inspires affection and a little research, with a fresh egg here and there, in exchange for its share of cat food and, later, chicken feed.
Just as a chicken may fluff out its feathers for warmth in the winter, Grimes fluffs out his cute little story with some facts about chickens. Of my favorites:
> Chickens only lay eggs if they get about 14 hours of sunlight, which means eggs have not been ubiquitous in human history.
> Chickens were long valued more for their feathers than their meat.
> When the first chicken broke the record of laying more than 300 eggs a year (1914), she got a victory parade and a private train car into New York City to visit the mayor, "who presented her with a diamond-studded gold leg band" (p. 56). Sheesh!
The Chicken of Astoria thus joins the ranks of Benjamin Jones (RIP), the Vicious Chicken of Bristol, Rosalinda, and Gallus Rostromegalus as one of my favorite chickens. Huh. Not a sentence that I thought would need a serial comma...
Edit, 10/8: I can't believe this, but I thought of two more fictional chickens! Josefina from [b:The Josefina Story Quilt|1095697|The Josefina Story Quilt|Eleanor Coerr|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1344750300l/1095697._SY75_.jpg|1082532] and Billina from [b:Ozma of Oz|60177|Ozma of Oz (Oz, #3)|L. Frank Baum|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1170538598l/60177._SY75_.jpg|891152] (whose name I could have sworn was Billerica, like the city, but oh well...).
jessferg's review
3.0
Picked this up in the dollar bin at Wonder Books in Frederick, MD. Well worth $1 - maybe even worth $5! A cute, quick read that chicken and animal lovers will enjoy. Might be fun to read to school-age children. Some interesting facts, not a lot of sappiness. Really just a slightly extended magazine article bound between some covers.
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