I was sitting in my apartment, windows open, enjoying the Saturday afternoon sunshine and breezes when I heard an unusual sound -- a chicken clucking. (I live in Brooklyn, not my grandma's old farm in NC, after all). So I keep hearing it all day, sounds like it's coming from a neighbors backyard. Cut to 5 a.m., and about every 3-4 minutes this flippin' bird is crowing to wake up the neighborhood. Several days later, it's still there. I was telling Eugene about it, and he suggested I call New York City's 311 hotline. So they tell me that it is indeed illegal to have a pet chicken in NYC, so if I can pinpoint said chicken's location they can try to "remedy the situation" (do I smell chicken fingers?). The question remains now whether it's living in the backyard of one of my ghetto neighbors or whether it's in an abandoned lot near us. I plan to investigate, and I also have an intrepid houseguest, Mr. Brian Quain, coming to stay with me during the Tribeca Film Festival so maybe he can help me. I keep having flashbacks to Michael Winterbottom's "Wonderland" where the old mum throws that noisy neighbor's dog poisoned meat and kills him. And I'd also like to point out the irony that my apartment building is adorned on both sides with an ad for "Hot Bird," a now-defunct BBQ chicken joint that used to be a few blocks away. I guess I'm not alone...I remember a few years ago NY Times food writer William Grimes found a chicken in his backyard and took care of it, later writing a book about the whole experience. This could be a career boom for me?