Go away, chick! Chick!

Given much thought to chickens?

I didn’t.

At least, not until seven feathered marauders made mincemeat of a flower garden. Now I understand the origins of our popular saying, “scratching out a living.” Chickens scratch their feet to destruction.

The wild guinea fowl that once happily roamed my Biloxi neighborhood in small flocks were not garden-destructive. They were delightful to watch and protect.

Their Virginia domesticated cousins are a different story. I also now know why my heritage cherry tomatoes are disappearing before properly ripened. Feathered thieves!

Before I continue my tirade or share my newfound knowledge about chickens, I must admit their importance to the American diet. Chicken meat is the equivalent of a blank Renoir or Monet canvas.

Like a painter’s canvas, this mild flavored, evenly textured meat is open to interpretation, not with paint but with the colorful offerings of the culinary world. We reach beyond mundane salt and pepper to flavor chicken as masala taaks, curries, fajitas, gumbos, BBQs, pad thais, and so much more.

Earlier Americans appreciated chicken because of the ease of raising, even in backyards, but by the 20th century cattle ranchers satisfied the overwhelming American hunger for meat. Economists who keep watch on such things, however, say that 21st Century Americans again eat more chicken than beef.

Have you noticed? Few U.S. restaurants fail to list chicken something on their menus; few home freezers are void of the meat. Chicken, chickens everywhere!

In my yard, too.

They are not mine.

Both my Louisiana Cajun and Pennsylvania rural grandparents had chicken coops, so I know what killing steps it takes to put chicken on the dinner plate. But as long as it is plentiful and budget-wise at the market, I have no desire to produce it myself.

Egg-layers could be a different story. Home-raised eggs really are tastier but you must have the space, time and willingness to tend a flock. I don’t. Not in Biloxi when all my time was spent there. Not in Virginia, where I now also while away hill time.

When the Marauding Seven first appeared several weeks ago on my wooded top of a small Piedmont hill, I was fascinated, snapped photos and excitedly told friends. The chicken-wise among them said to beware, “Chickens can be destructive.”

Clucking and crowing long ago told me neighbors have coops. It’s a natural part of rural life, but in nearly a decade, no free-roaming chickens visited.

Last year when the new bottom-of-the-hill neighbors established a coop, I could hear but not see the hens. As far as I knew, they stayed “cooped up” all day.

I don’t know who owns the Marauding Seven. This is not like a neighborhood where everyone knows everyone. These homesteads are spread out and include farms.

I thought the Marauders’ first visit was an anomaly until I later spotted new signs. Poop on deck steps. Plants uprooted. Mulch scratched onto walkways. Grrrrrr.

The large raised flower bed was hit worst, probably because of its earthwormish fertile soil on an otherwise clayish hill. I put white metal garden separators around the raised wood. Didn’t work. Next came the chicken wire, unsightly but for now, until I decide my next move (Got a recipe for “feral” chicken stew?) it’s doing the job.

Next, I sat at the computer to assuage my anger with research. Yes, in my county it is illegal to let your animals roam on someone else’s property.

But did you know that chickens were domesticated between 7,000 to 10,000 years ago? I didn’t. Interestingly, early domestication was about both cockfighting and food.

China likely domesticated the first chickens. The earliest domestic remains were found in northern China and date to 5400 BCE, although proof positive doesn’t come for another 2,000 years. At that point domesticated chicken spread across Asia into Africa and Europe.

Romans carried them into battle believing they were fortunetellers. Greeks set up cockfighting amphitheaters to teach valor to soldiers. Egyptians hung eggs in their temples to assure river flow. In Matthew, Jesus compares his care for the Jerusalem people to a hen’s caring of her brood.

One thing many researchers agree on is that the chicken (Gallus domesticus) was domesticated from a wild form called the red junglefowl (Gallus gallus), which still lives today. That means DNA studies help researchers, who now possess a map of the chicken genome.

These birds were long thought to come to the Americans via Spanish conquistadors but even that thought is changing after pre-Columbian chickens remains were found in Chile in 2004.

As chicken history is hashed out, we know for sure that they took on huge food significance in the U.S. at the turn of the 20th century.

Old articles in this newspaper affirm chick importance here, including this 1889 ad, “Gulf Front Property For Sale At a Bargain!” listed at $1,800. The two arpents of land near Biloxi, included “2 new incubators and brooder for 400 chickens.”

My favorite is this Gulfport 1918 article about the need to make at-large chickens unlawful:

“Local gardeners are making vociferous complaints about the depredations of chickens whose owners make no effort to keep them upon their premises. One gardener, who at a great expense and labor planted several hundred strawberries, states that [in] a few hours all were scratched from the bed ...

“The gardeners allege that they are trying to minimize table expenses, but chickens are making the undertaking quite difficult.”

Can you hear my “ditto” a hundred years later?