Years ago, on black and white
television, there was a popular game show called What’s My Line? It was a cute display of stage and screen
actors and actresses who were attempting to make the transition into the new media,
TV.
The premise of this show was to
have four star and starlet panelists ask questions of a guest whose job was a
secret. After each failed round of
questioning the guest would garner $5 cash.
Five bucks was a lot of money back in the early 1950’s.
A maximum amount of $50 was
awarded if no one could guess the profession of the guest-at-hand.
This was so long ago that the
host and panelists regularly smoked pipes and cigarettes, and the women
panelists wore gloves, the men wore suits.
Some of these contestants include
a woman who made wigs, a man who brought an 80-member banjo band, and a set of
five twins from one family. These
contestants were selected to make mirth and challenge for the astute idols on
the panel.
But one fellow struck me as a
bunch of baloney. He was a small,
slender man with a dark (remember it was in B&W,) suit who seemed somewhat
shy. This folically challenged gentleman
answered all questions politely and tersely.
Alas, the panel was at a loss to
guess the occupation of this middle-aged fellow.
Then, his secret was revealed; he
made eyeglasses for chickens. Yep.
This was not true, I
thought.
Each year, in January, I make a
pilgrimage to my eye doctor. She goes
through a series of tests – first testing one eye, then the other by holding a
card in front of the non-subject peeper.
Then I place my face into a
steampunk-like contraption that places varying strength lenses, to which I
respond as to their clarity. Eventually,
I pay my $125 and get a prescription for new glasses that will allow me to read
highway speed limit signs.
Which is why I found the chicken
eyeglass scenario a total scam. I have
never know a chicken to complain about their vision, or squint to see their
food. Nor do I know if these glasses
come as bifocals.
So it was this truckload of
curiosity that drove me to the internet.
I searched “chicken eyeglasses.”
Indeed, I stand corrected, again.
These devices are somewhat
misnamed. They are more in the vein of
chicken blinders. Evidently, these
little plastic items are placed on the beaks of chickens in large flocks. This ocular device prevents the chicken from
violently pecking its neighbor chicken while feeding.
I did not know that chickens
would literally kill one another over marigold petals, but evidently they
do. Hence the chicken eyeglasses.
In case you’re interested, they
sell, in bulk, for about a dollar a pair.
Styles are limited, though, and there are none offered in tortoise
shell.
I learned something new, again.
