Flesh eating chicken!

I've mentioned before that I have several chickens.  I love fresh eggs, and from time to time, I enjoy a fresh chicken.  Yes, I do it all myself.  No, I don't know how I can be so heartless and actually kill the food I eat, so don't ask.  =)

Today my chickens (sort of) exacted their revenge.

Every morning when I feed my chickens, they run up to me, and stand very impatiently around me waiting for me to feed them.  Some mornings, they peck at my toe nails, I assume, because they think they are something yummy to eat.  They are not, and it kind of tickles.

Last night, I went for a run, and got a super fancy blister.  It was one of those really great ones, that you get AND pop on the same run, so it burns with the fire of a thousand suns.

Kind of like this

This is not my busted foot.  I repeat NOT my foot.  

(Also, I would advise against using the Google image search to look for pictures of blisters.  I almost threw up.)

The blister it self is probably around a seven on this scale.

(I shamelessly stole this image from http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.)

When I got home, I screamed and flailed like a child while I washed it, an then left it uncovered so it would dry out a little, and I could cut away the tremendously sensitive skin that was hanging off the back of my foot.  I wanted to avoid being one of those people who grapple with little pieces of skin hanging off their body.  Yum.

I forgot about the blister when I went outside this morning, and it apparently looked tasty.

I can not even begin to explain to you the pain of a rooster pecking me DIRECTLY in the open blister, then trying to rip the piece of skin off my foot.

If you would again view the chart above the pain was very much too serious for numbers.

This is Marcellus Wallace, the guilty rooster.  He is my favorite chicken, and will never be on the menu... even if he continues to try and eat me while I am still alive.

He is my super awesome dive bombing, razor sharp beak having, does not look like a bitch, top of the pecking order, rooster.  And now I can add flesh eating to his list of accomplishments. Fear him.  Seriously, fear him.  It really hurt when he pecked me in the blister.  I screamed. Loud.