Thursday, May 20, 2010


Not that the last couple of days haven't been mindless enough . . . here's my contribution to the fact that some have less mind - or mind less - than others.

Alan left a message on my phone yesterday telling me there was some leftover fried chicken in the fridge that we could use for supper so when I got home, I took it out to see just exactly how much there was (and possibly snitch that little piece of the liver that's left buried in the bones on the thigh pieces). Anyway, among the pieces that were left was this valiant wing:

It made me chuckle, needless to say. And, mindless person that I am, I have to wonder: when this particular chicken saw the hatchet coming, did the flight instinct kick in? And in his scattered attempt to 'fly the coop', was there only one feather that weathered the blustery flight? Oh, wait, chickens can't fly anyway, so this chicken either had a little less of a mind or felt he was different from all the other chickens on the farm and really could fly. Maybe, like the Greek myth, he flew so high the sun melted all his feathers off but this one. Or maybe he just spent a little too much time in the incubator when he was still an egg. Or maybe this particular chicken chose to fight but soon realized he was in over his head (actually 'without' a head). In a last minute redemption attempt, he waved the only white thing he had left and surrendered with what was left of his dignity. One of those mysteries that will haunt us without ever producing enough facts to give us an answer.

And I have to wonder mindlessly about all the people between the hatchet and the vat of boiling oil at our local grocery store whose lives were touched by this symbol of hope. Were they all so inspired by the bond between this severed wing and its courageous little feather that they couldn't bring themselves to separate them? Did the Thigh Guy ignore this situation assuming the Wing Man would catch it? Was Quality Control more concerned with the 'plump and juicy' part than the 'sticky feather on the errant wing' part?

Anyway, I didn't eat fried chicken last night. And all I can envision is a poor little chicken waving me down, warning me to look around me and be a little more mindful of all I have that's worth clinging to.


  1. I found this post very funny...I just killed two of our chickens tonight. The kids got a kick out of the headless chicken running around. We (they) did eat the whole thing for dinner and I had a nice steak, and no I didn't kill the cow...atleast not this one.

  2. Joe-were these the two chickens that kept smashing the eggs? So being killed and eaten was their punishment? Poor chickens!

    Mom-I have no clue how you can come up with so many analogies, etc from a wing hanging off your chicken. My only thought was, "Oh gross!!"

  3. I wonder if that poor little chicken was living his life "on a wing and a prayer"...hoping to make it, but knowing it was unlikely he would succeed. So I guess the prayer didn't work and the wing is all that's left to show for his life. I'm relating to this more than I would like to.

  4. I agree with all of you, but I think it looks GROSS. Betty, prayer does work, just not in this case--worse case scenario. I thought Joe was allergic to chicken. Did you name the chickens, Joe? Poor dears. Love all of you.

  5. Joe is allergic to chicken, which is why he ate a steak while the rest of his family enjoyed eating the pets. Mom, remember when you guys killed our pet bunnies but didn't tell us what it was until after we ate it?! I still have nightmares about that. :)

  6. Blackie and Brownie wasn't it? That must have been before we knew for sure Joe was allergic to chicken because, as I recall, we told you guys it was chicken and you all ate it. Your dad and I thought we were so clever. Too bad that's not the worst thing we inflicted upon you kids! You're all very lucky to have made it to adulthood! Glad you were all such good sports.