On Sunday during lunch, I looked under our lunch table and this is what I saw. Thank goodness I had my phone nearby to take a photo.
It’s Winifred looking every bit the fat, contented chicken. We try not to have the girls up on the deck with us while we’re eating. They’ve been known to attempt a table leap for food, or your lap. Mostly it’s just, and I say this with love, a bit annoying when hungry chickens harass you while you’re eating.
Even more so if what you’re eating is actually chicken. That’s weird and we’ve had moments where we pause, a drumstick hovering between plate and mouth, alarmed. I’m not opposed to pet eating per se, but it’s not a place I wish to go at this point in my chicken keeping life. It’s hard enough to massage oil into the cold, featherless body of a bird I didn’t know before putting it in the oven.
In the meantime, I just savour moments like this one, where someone, in the case it’s Winifred, wants to be quietly nearby, peaceful and content.
It certainly helps to remember such images when I’m cursing them for eating my potted lettuce.