Recently we visited the school farm. Part of this adventure was visiting the chickens they keep on the farm, something I, personally, was very excited about. See, I like to think of animals as my friends, and I wrongly assumed that these chickens would feel a similar love for me.
Maybe I should have stayed out of the chicken coup. When you go into a dangerous zone like that, you have to understand the risks. Of course, I was just excited to pet their soft, feathery heads and did not consider the possibility that they were not as eager to be petted.
Maybe I should have just patted one or two on the back, watched them run in circles for a while, and gone home unharmed. That’s not the kind of person I am though, and after seeing Olivia Weaver pick up a chicken and give it a big hug I decided that there was nothing stopping me from doing the same.
When I grabbed the hen, she seemed at least partially content, and I was so exhilarated by the knowledge that I was holding the chicken and had therefore made a friend that I did not notice that I was being crapped on until it was too late. Fortunately, chicken feces are mostly grass and don’t smell too bad, but the whole experience was tarnished by that one traitorous chicken.