Week 7--Everyday Things

Chickens.

It was a warm afternoon and four chickens stalked around the backyard looking so ridiculous as chickens do and yet so ancient and full of self importance—the intelligent but silly aunt of the Pterodactyl. The ancient Romans used chickens as an Oracle so perhaps there is a kind of wisdom in their quick, odd pecking and their two-footed gallop. Or perhaps the Romans simply appreciated their wise-woman appearance and had a little faith that the speed of their eating or the direction of their “flight” path held meaning. Don’t we all look for signs?

On this afternoon, our host (and owner of the chickens) knew the sign of an egg-laying chicken and ushered everyone over to the coop for the big event. I missed it, but later ate an egg sunny-side up with a yolk as rich as butter and the color of sunflower petals.

Nothing is as domestic as a chicken. These birds so easily fall prey to hawks, raccoons, and even weasels (an animal I’m sure that weighs 1/3 of a chicken). And yet the domestic chicken descends from the Red Junglefowl a type of pheasant that still stalks around the jungle today presumable able to take care of itself. The two animals are genetically related enough to still be categorized as the same species.

I think domestic chickens are wilder than I’ve ever given them credit for. A friend of mine relates that her chickens will go crazy over a big caterpillar and she’s seen her small flock of four kill a mouse. I’ve read on line that given the chance a chicken will take down a small lizard, and I’ve heard many people relate their terror when as children they were chased down by a rooster. I think this is what I want to see in the chicken. That something can be comfortable and taken care of and even have the appearance of some addled Victorian spinster, and still have strength and a bit of useful unpredictability that reveals true character.