My dad had about eighty chickens. One chicken, Gertrude, was smart enough to escape the coup and hang out around the house. My dad loved Gertrude. One night I shared some beer with Gertrude. She loved it and got wasted, the the next morning I feared I had killed her but she just had a bad hangover. I figured she wouldn’t want beer after that, but every time she found me outside with beer, she would get totally wasted which was funny to watch, get a bad hangover, then do it again. She was my first drinking buddy.
You had a stewed chicken.
smart enough to end up on my dinner plate...