And the very next day he took possession and moved out to the farm and saw the stock. Farmer Friendly had been engaged in genetic engineering! And he wasn’t very good at it!
Angry Beaver with his horse herd. Notice the chicken. From notes left behind (signed with little hearts over the “i” and a smiley face) Barry Beaver was supposed to understand that he was the proud owner of a herd of “Bendy®” horses. Farmer Friendly had been working on breeding a horse that wasn’t so prone to breaking it legs. And he succeeded–kind of. He admitted there were some issues to be straightened out (like their overly flexible legs).
Angry Barry Beaver was also supposed to be ecstatic over his drift of pigs. Knowing that some people made the switch to vegetarianism out of a belief that it was wrong to eat anything with a face, Farmer Friendly had created a breed of faceless pigs. Faceless Wonders®, he called them. There really was a problem with them drifting into things, and they were bad about finding each other to breed, but in a properly run factory farm these issues wouldn’t come up. (He’d also, he really didn’t understand how, gotten a recessive bendy gene into the pool. “Sorry about that,” the note said, followed by another smiley face.)
Farmer friendly had also started the same program with the cows. These were the worlds first two faceless calves.
The sheep-chicken really got to Angry Beaver. He didn’t like to go near it, didn’t like the way both animals stared at him with deeply stupid distrust. Sure he could understand the practical side of an animal(s) that produced eggs, meat and wool but he couldn’t get past the malevolence in their eyes when he tried to run a ‘Dolly the Sheep with chicken breast enhancement’ joke by them.
The rabbits, at first, seemed to be okay. They did come when you told them to. And then they wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t stop standing close to you. Wanting you to say the magic words again. It had been a long time since Angry Beaver said “Ick!”
The Turkey was both faceless and bendy. And there was only one chicken that was a chicken and not a chicken-horse, or a chicken-cow, or a chicken-sheep.
Angry Beaver dreamed of all his commune coming to the farm and seeing what he’d done. The fantasy made his shudder. Though he did, thinking of Happy Angry Dog, briefly envision everyone being friends. But that was before he’d spent two days with stock. Farmer Friendly had not been breeding for intelligence or providing a decent education.
Mama Bunny wonders when her lovely small brained child will finally shut up. (Illustration from a companion book to this book. )