I have two words for you: chicken yoga. Wait, hear me out. Chickens are lovely creatures. They need to investigate everything. Skittish, but not anxious. They are fluffy and poised, able to meander about with effortless confidence that borders on arrogant and indifferent. Good qualities.
I find them charming, unless you are carrying food that you have no intention of sharing, in which case, they are downright aggressive. But nobody eats during yoga, so chances are we’d survive. I mean, hold on, can we eat? Pasta yoga. Eat. Bloat. Namaste. Where is that class?
Back to my thesis on why chicken yoga should be a thing: chickens are always present. They live in the here and now. They don’t worry about past transgressions. Mind you, they are mean, like the popular girls in middle school, in that they will peck the weakest member of the flock to the point of injury, then get distracted by a worm popping up in the soil and move on. Tiny brains. Big attitude. Zero memory (I know people who fit this description – they don’t do yoga).
Chickens won’t jump on you like those drooling, sloppy little puppies everyone is so fond of, and they won’t piddle on your mat either. It’s going to be more of a plop. A large plop. It will happen often. Don’t try to clean it until it gets dry and hard. Trust me.
Yoga with goats sounds just adorable, but if you think puppies are hard to manage, try a tiny goat. You only have to be bitten once to know it’s not cute. Plus, they’ll climb up your back while you’re in child’s pose and that will only be cute for a minute, until your legs fall asleep and then you aren’t getting up, period. Goats also smell.
Chickens stink too. I get it. They could also injure you when they peck at you. Not going to lie, it hurts. Don’t invite trouble. No wearing sparkly jewelry. If you’ve painted your fingernails and toenails red, whatever happens on that mat is your own fault because chickens love the colour red. Go with blue. Your yoga mat may be a different story. Chickens will peck that to pieces. Just focus on your mantra. Come to think of it, keeping a pose while being relentlessly pecked at is distracting. Okay, maybe forget the whole chicken yoga concept.
I know, let’s go with duck yoga. Personally, ducks would help with my biggest yoga fears (yes, I have yoga fears which is why I’m not in your class): people seeing my ugly feet and the inevitable possibility of breaking wind. Quack. See, if you’re doing yoga with ducks, with their adorable leathery webbed feet, bow-legged centre of gravity and wobbly bottoms, I feel like they’d make me feel better in any yoga pose I attempt.
Also, ducks chatter non-stop, like their inside voice of random thoughts needs to be expressed at all times. Part gossip, part run-on sentence. What could be better for your own mental chatter than duck-supported stretches?
And until you’ve heard a duck drink water, which sounds like a herd of toddlers running through a puddle, you simply haven’t lived.
Duck yoga will now happen in my yard, because I have to find out if this is a marketable thing. Stay tuned for more super-helpful fitness suggestions.
