Linguistic Erosion

Contributor: Danica Green - - Mama kept chickens in the yard all through my childhood. Every few days she and I would go out together and collect the eggs, feed the chickens, check the cage wires, and I would say hello to each chicken individually. Mrs. Cluck was my favourite, we adopted her from a shelter and she'd been the only survivor of a fox attack on the coop she lived in as a chick. It had left her mother and siblings dead and her wings torn off so she looked a bit like one of those New Zealand kiwi birds. It never phased her though, she produced just as many eggs as her coop-mates, ate fine, slept well. Plucky Mrs. Cluck. Since papa left the house two years earlier, money had been tight. I'd often go without fancy birthday gifts so that we could feed the chickens and I didn't mind it at all. Who'd want a stupid cassette player...

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