Picture this: You’re at a family reunion, demolishing some jollof rice and chicken, when your Aunt Ngozi leans over, adjusts her gele, and asks, “So, what’s your job these days?”
You clear your throat, lean in confidently, and declare, “I’m a chicken sexer.”
Cue a room full of dropped forks, choking noises, and your cousin Kelechi snorting Zobo out of his nose. Someone whispers, “Wait, chickens even get… you know… down like that?”
But no, this isn’t some ‘chicken Tinder’ or a Nollywood comedy skit. You, my friend, are a Certified Chicken Sexer — a real, honest-to-goodness job where you get paid to inspect baby chicks’ behinds to figure out if they’re future egg-layers or the next peppered chicken on the menu.
So, What Exactly Does a Chicken Sexer Do?
In short: you’re the Sherlock Holmes of the poultry world. Your mission? To determine if a chick is male or female in under five seconds. You’re the feathered forensic expert, the winged wonder whisperer, the olori oko of confused hatchlings.
It’s not as simple as flipping a chick over and asking, “Guy, you dey lay eggs or not?” Nope. You’ve got to squint at microscopic details — feather patterns, wing lengths, and the sacred cloaca (that’s bird-speak for “all-purpose hole”) while a tiny bird peeps its indignation at you.
And if you’re thinking, “Awww, fluffy baby chicks!”, please prepare for a poultry-themed reality check. This job involves a relentless assembly line, the pungent aroma of chicken nyash, and a conveyor belt that’s faster than Lagos traffic on a Sunday morning.
Welcome to the Fast and Feathery
Chicken sexing isn’t a job. It’s an Olympic event. You’re expected to sex up to 1,200 chicks an hour. That’s 20 chicks a minute! If you blink too long, you’re five chicks behind, and the conveyor belt has already sent you a spiritual message: “Better luck next time, my guy.”
And the stakes? Higher than the chance of the national grid not collapsing again. Misidentify one chick, and someone’s carton of “farm-fresh eggs” might come with an unplanned feathered surprise.
Training: How to Become a Cloaca Whisperer
You don’t just wake up and magically know how to interpret chick booty signals. This job requires training. Months of squatting over chick butts while a seasoned sexer points and says things like, “See that barely-there bump? That’s pure rooster vibes.”
The learning curve is brutal. Imagine trying to spot the difference between two grains of rice while your boss looms and 1,000 impatient chicks are screaming, *”Oga, do fast!”
Why Would Anyone Do This?!
The pay, surprisingly, is decent. Chicken sexers can earn upwards of $60,000 a year. That’s not “rich uncle” money, but it’s enough to fund your suya addiction. And while your dignity might take a few hits, your bank account stays plump.
Plus, there’s pride in being the MVP of poultry logistics. Without you, breakfast tables from Lagos to London would be full of confused roosters trying to lay eggs and failing spectacularly.
And when your techie friend brags about their fancy job, you can calmly say, “I’m in gender identification for high-speed biological units.” Respect.
A Final Word to the Skeptics
So, the next time you meet a chicken sexer, don’t laugh—clap for them. They’ve faced the feathery unknown and come out victorious. They’re living proof that even the weirdest jobs are real, and sometimes, they come with a side of beaks, butt-feathers, and pure, unadulterated hustle.
And honestly, if you’ve made it through this article without Googling “cloaca,” you’re already a legend.
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