Chicks, kids and pigs.
Ok, before anyone gets too worked up and starts calling me a sexist, insensitive, opinionated, elitist . . . pig, let me first explain that this post is about animals not people. More specifically, chickens, goats and pigs, and given that it is that time of the season when little babies are running around with their mommies, chicks, kids and piglets.
To give you a bit more context of what the drive up to Voinjama (and to Kpatawee) is like, not only do you drive on dirt roads most of the way, every so often you go through a village that looks like this:
I apologize for not having a better picture, but I was advised by an anxious Andrew that it is not proper to just photograph a village as you drive by. If we wanted to take pictures, we should stop and ask to speak to the chief or, if he’s not there, to a village elder. Considering we were trying to make good time, I decided against stopping to chat and take photos (all the more reason to consider getting a vehicle so I can go wandering on my own a bit).
As you can imagine, these villages aren’t much for locking things up and often the first signs that you’re approaching a village is a goat, with a couple of kids trailing behind, eating on the side of the road. Often times, the road runs right through the middle of the village and there are goats, chickens, pigs or little dogs (all Liberian dogs are little) eating stuff on the road that has bounced off a produce truck that has driven by. The animals of course go scattering off once the vehicle approaches (most of the animals around here are pretty smart that way) so we didn’t have to slow down too much.
Anyway, most of the goats were these little cute black things with whispy white beards on their chins and little stubby horns. The kids that followed behind were even cuter. There were a couple of times where I really expected one to stand up on its back two feet, pull out a pan flute and start playing like a character out of Greek mythology.
The pigs were little things and also were mostly black or grey. They were pretty darned small and really looked no larger than a baby pigmy hippo and looked a lot like one from the back. But I assure you, they were pigs cuz they had pig snouts, not hippo noses. Too bad. And the piglets too were awfully cute.
Then there were the chickens. (I’ll let you in on a little secret - Ann just loves chickens!) How should I describe them? There were, with no exaggeration, the most diverse and beautiful chickens I have ever seen. Stunning multi-colored roosters, this one snow-grey hen that was an unimaginable color; browns, speckles, layers of color that made me wonder why in the world we’re so narrow-minded (chicken wise) in the states. I didn’t even know that chickens come in those colors, I thought they were reserved for ducks! Of course I didn’t think to try and photograph them until we almost reached Voinjama (and they were all in villages anyway, which would have meant a trip to the chief and probably the funniest look from him as I tried to explain why I would want a photograph of his village’s chickens, “Well Chief, my wife really likes chickens . . .” “Don’t you have chickens in the US?” . . . . you get my point).
Well, in Voinjama, while coming down from the top of the radio tower, I had my chance. This one rooster was making it really difficult for me to get a shot of him (yeah, Dan The Great Chicken Hunter!), but Andrew (I told you he was the man) made it happen. As the rooster ran from my side of the road to Andrew’s, Andrew stopped the car and rolled down his window. So from my seat, shooting across Andrew’s chest and out his window, this is what I shot:
Like I told you, simply incredible coloring!