In Defense of Roosters

In Defense of Roosters

Seedmother DOES NOT ask for donations.

Seedmother is really an artist and commercial illustrator who happens to have an affinity for "chicken life". Chickens inspire my art and I want to share my appreciation of them with others who feel the same way. I have created an array of quality novelty products for the enjoyment of alektorophiles. (I made that up, alektorophobia means fear of chickens so I constructed a logical antonym/neologism).

If that sentiment and my artistic expression strikes your fancy as an effort worth supporting, I appreciate your business. But regardless, please enjoy, read the stories and maybe share a laugh or a tear. The stories are anthropomorphized but largely true, although, I've taken a few liberties with the chronology.

It's best to read the episodes from oldest to newest if this is your first visit.

Fine Art Prints from Seedmother

Seedmother T-shirts

Seedmother doesn't like plastic bags

Natural Fiber Eco bags for carrying all your stuff.
It would be nice if we could just get rid of plastic bags altogether.

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Seedmother Greeting Cards

Seedmother Stamps

Yes, it's legitimate! Use it to mail your cards.

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Thursday, June 12, 2008

Red & White

Some of our chickens turned out to have this beautiful coloration. Some gene combination caused it but only in the roosters, I never saw a hen painted like this. Probably an alliance between the red jungle fowl and a domestic white variety that wandered off into the forest for some adventure.

Our two were Irving and Gimpy. They were similar in appearance but their personalities couldn't have been more different. Gimpy, so named, because a fight with Henry left him lame. He was a cranky old man with a bad attitude and very aggressive.

Irving was originally Ivory as she was pure white as a chick. We changed it to Irving when it became obvious the she was a he. The alternative name was Freckles, which I vetoed. Irving was a very sweet, gentle type. Rusty ran him off early on so he could have Sola to himself and Irving seemed to accept the periphery of the flock as his place. I always made sure he got seeds though, because he just didn't want to fight and after all, I was the great Seedmother and he was my child.

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