Free-range poultry in the heart of Jackson seems unlikely, but then you’ll probably find chickens strolling all over Montgomery. Earlier this year, sometime around Easter, a flock of what I thought was pullets began wandering my neighborhood. Given the abundance of feral cats, their numbers were quickly reduced until only two are left, not hens, but rather two gaudy, glossy roosters who crow early in the day at different locations then join one another later in the morning to strut their stuff together in the yards and gardens along the more well-traveled streets. They have cowed the cats into submission and appear for all the world to be the lords of their turf. Given the surfeit of hens if I were a pigeon I wouldn’t spend a lot of time on the ground here, though for all I know when they’re together they’re clucking over carpets and window dressings.