Dogs Gone Wild

A Tale of Broilers, Turkeys, and a Ram on the Run

Hello, vibrant people of Igbe Ikorodu! Life on a poultry farm is like a masquerade dance—full of twists, turns, and the occasional tumble. Today, I’m serving up a triple dose of farmyard drama from my Double Technics Farm Igbe, starring rogue dogs, ravaged broilers, and even a ram that narrowly escaped doom. My own tales feature my dogs Blank and Browny, plus a German Shepherd from years past, while my neighbor Mr. Etsu brings his own canine chaos with a mutt named Smart. Along the way, I’ll sprinkle in figures of speech—those colorful twists of language—to make you laugh and learn. Grab your fufu, and let’s dive into this tale spicier than a bowl of egusi soup!

My Broiler Bonanza and the Dogs That Crashed It

At Double Technics Farm, I’ve got layers laying eggs like clockwork and broilers so big they strut around like village chiefs (simile alert—comparing with “like”!). These feathered giants were the talk of Igbe—neighbors gawked, saying they were “as plump as a politician’s wallet” (simile—comparing with “as”). But peace turned to pandemonium (alliteration—repeating “p” sounds) when my two local dogs, Blank and Browny, went rogue. With a squawk and a crunch (onomatopoeia—words mimicking sounds!), they munched one of my prized broilers like it was a midnight snack. My profits vanished faster than rain in harmattan (hyperbole—exaggeration for effect!), and I was livid.

Joking with a straight face, I declared, “An eye for an eye, Moses style!” The verdict? Slash their food to half, then sell them off. Blank was carted to Calabar folks who’d turn him into a peppery delight (no shade, Calabar crew!), while Browny went to a breeder with a male dog in tow. The cash bought me two 7-week-old broilers and three bags of cement for molding blocks—a plan as solid as Aso Rock (metaphor—comparing without “like” or “as”). But plot twist: Browny’s new owner called this week, voice shaking like palm fronds in a storm (personification—giving human traits to things), saying she’d bolted. “Is she back at your place?” he asked. Nope. Now I’m itching to slap a “Wanted: Dead or Alive” poster online—Browny, the fugitive, laughing at my justice (irony—when the opposite happens!).

The German Shepherd and Iya Ijebu’s Ram

Rewind a few years, and my farm saw another canine caper. I once owned a German Shepherd—big, bold, and brimming with mischief. One day, he set his sights on Iya Ijebu’s ram, chasing it down like a hunter after bushmeat (simile again!). That ram bleated for dear life, narrowly escaping with its woolly hide intact. Who knows what Iya Ijebu’s reaction would’ve been? The old woman’s tongue could’ve lashed me harder than a cane on market day! Life dodged a bullet there, and my Shepherd got a stern talking-to. Dogs, eh?

Mr. Etsu’s Farmyard Massacre

Fast forward to this morning—Mr. Etsu, my farming comrade, rang me, his voice hotter than a Lagos sun. His dog Smart—a name dripping with irony—turned his farm into a war zone. Nearly 30 two-week-old broilers and three turkeys, gone in a single rampage. “That dog killed them like a Nollywood villain!” he fumed (simile strikes again). He’s done—Smart’s sentenced to the dog eaters’ pot, pronto. “Call your Calabar crew,” he begged. “I want that beast out before the sun sets!” Smart’s exit is set—sold off faster than you can say “pepper soup.”

Why Do Dogs Do the Unusual?

Why do these dogs turn into feathered-fiend slayers—or ram-chasing rascals? It’s their wild wolf blood barking through. A flapping broiler or a trotting ram is like a neon sign screaming, “Chase me!” Instinct takes over, and your farm becomes a buffet. Blank, Browny, Smart, and my old Shepherd didn’t see pets or profits—they saw prey. It stings like a slap from an elder (simile), but it’s nature, not naughtiness. Boredom or hunger just fans the flames.

Life’s a Figure of Speech—Pick Yours!

Life truly is a figure of speech, twisting and turning like a Nollywood plot. Is it a metaphor, where my farm’s a stage and dogs play the villains? A hyperbole, with chaos bigger than Lagos traffic? Maybe irony, where loyal dogs betray us, or a pun, where Browny “barks up the wrong tree”? I’ve taken you through them all—simile, metaphor, hyperbole, personification, onomatopoeia, irony, alliteration, and pun. Which one’s your favorite? Leave a response and let me know—I’ll be here, raising broilers and eyebrows!

Lessons from the Coop

What’s the takeaway? Dogs can be saints one day, sinners the next. My broilers still rule the roost, Mr. Etsu’s rebuilding, and Browny’s out there, a four-legged bandit with a wag in her tail. Iya Ijebu’s ram lived to graze another day, and I’m still spinning yarns for you, Igbe Ikorodu. Here, even a dog’s mischief digs up a tale tastier than roasted yam (pun—dig up, yam, get it?).

Till next time, stay clucking and blessed! 

Omobosupo Adetu is a poultry farmer and storyteller for Igbe News, raising broilers, layers  at Double Technics Farm Igbe