Why chickens?Because they embody earnestness. When they run to you, well, to me, because I am the Food God, they barrel. They get excited about stuff. They're enthusiastic and curious.
They are incredibly attuned to their environment: they hear everything and are constantly on the look out, being the Prey Animals of all Prey Animals, the Underdogs of all Underdogs, and they know it. Given how attuned they are, I think they are probably predisposed to madness, given the food factory business.
They are primitive and of the ages: my chicken is Picasso's chicken, is Ghengis Khans' chicken, is Moses' chicken, is William Carlos Williams' chicken (the latter: I think he got it).
Because they're dinosaurs.
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As I bike to work, I go past a house that's quite typical here in Bellingham; with an extensive garden, several little out buildings, and lots of chairs around a fire pit. All of it looking and feeling like something you would have seen in 1968-1974 or so, except the chairs are the alluminum and canvas camping one's you see all the time now.
There is usually a woman in the garden. Hippyish to the core,the "earth mother", cultivating the rows of veges, floppy garden hat and big skirt(the kind you ring out and let dry as is)and a chicken following her around. I want to stop one of these days and ask about the chicken and one of the trees they have with the most beautiful white flowers.
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