EMMA PHILBROOK: STUDENT LIFE

Some people go to county fairs for the rodeos; others for the deep-fried Twinkies; still others to see the amazing things people can do with yarn or wood.

I go for the chickens.

If you're ever hunting around for me at one of these events, go straight to the poultry barn. I'll be there admiring the residents - and, on occasion, talking to them.

Yes, I talk to the chickens.

Perhaps more than I should.

I talk to the bantam roosters - sweet little guys about as high as your hand. They're not very intimidating. Sometimes they try to fix their machismo deficit by crowing. The resulting soprano squeak, though, isn't going to scare anybody - except for maybe the pigeon in the next cage over.

Bantam roosters are very rarely in a cage alone - there's often a hen of the same species in coordinating colors. They make cute little pairs. I've seen more than one hen delicately peck the crumbs off her cagemate's beak, which never fails to make me smile.

And then, invariably, she starts pecking at his comb. The rooster doesn't really react - beyond rolling his eyes. Pullets. No brains at all, those ones.

As far as talking with the eyes goes, though, the really big roosters have it down. They're generally very majestic and fluffy, so I'll usually greet them with "Ooooh, you such a cootie widdle boy, yes you are!"

They then - to a man - cock their heads at me and narrow their eyes.

Do I look cute to you, lady? Huh? Mark my words, these bars can't hold me. I'll track you down and - when you least expect it - some night when you're alone, I'llhellip;I'llhellip;I'LL SIT ON YOU. You hear?

The midsized roosters seem to have the most personality. I've gotten in hair/comb-flipping contests with a couple. We stare at each other for a while. Then he'll cock his head and wiggle his comb. I'll mimic him. Eventually, I can start moving my head and he'll mimic me. The resulting interaction is completely adorable to most people over forty. Everyone younger will come to the correct conclusion that I have a screw loose.

And, of course, we can't forget the hens. They tend to be somewhat less outgoing than roosters, but what they lack in stage (er, cage) presence, they make up for in choral ability. Most of the hens I know have the same favorite song (it goes something like "buckbuck buck-buBAWK!" and has received two Grammy nominations this year). And when one of them starts singing it, the others sing right along. It can get pretty noisy in those poultry barns when the ladies get in a musical mood. There's also an accompanying dance - move head slightly back and forth with neck extended, twitch shoulders very gently with wings slightly out. (I'm told the last part is a natural way of coping with the heat. Don't try it - while it does help a good deal, you start to get funny looks from the pigeons after a while.)

So next time the fair rolls into town, you might consider visiting the chickens. One parting cautionary note: If you have chickens at home, they will often be irrationally jealous that you've done this. Bribing them with leftover curly fries helps.