The building containing my flat is in some ways like a mullet. All business in front (the business of looking like a nondescript Northwest Portland house) and all fun in the back. Maybe fun’s not quite the right word, but there are quite a few things going on in the back courtyard that you might not expect to see in this neighborhood. A huge and unruly vegetable garden. A greenhouse. A bee hive. And there are also chickens. The owner was putting the coop together when I moved in, and it is now complete (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he has ceased to work on it). Chickens are now in residence. But these are no ordinary chickens. These chickens are for change. And according to a sign that appeared on the coop yesterday (well out of public view), they are voting for Obama. Oregon has historically not been a tough battleground for Democratic presidential candidates. With the urban chicken vote squarely in hand, I think Barack can safely stay away from this state until November, and every once in a while toss the chickens platitudes from afar about pro-Vegetarianism and the importance of repealing the no-rooster laws that prevail within Portland city limits.