Have you ever noticed that, although your train of thought may seem logical to yourself, if you were to describe it to somebody else it would probably have no sense at all? That’s the way my brain works most of the time. But somehow it brings some interesting ideas to mind and some wonderful reminiscences.
I don’t know what got me thinking about my eating habits today, but that’s what was on my mind while I was changing my sheets this morning. I was turning over in my mind the idea of whether or not chickens are emotionally attached to all of the eggs they lay, fertilized or not. Some people argue that taking any egg from a chicken is cruel because the chicken will become depressed and mourn the loss. But that’s a lot of mourning going on in one lifetime considering the majority of a chicken’s eggs are not fertilized. And how do so many people successfully raise chickens and take the eggs without having sad or angry chickens?
Yes, I think about these things in my spare time. It explains a lot, doesn’t it?
Anyhow, this train of thought some how chugged along to an evening years ago when I was high school. This was one of the funnier moments with my group of friends, but what do you expect from poultry? One of my friends at the time surprised the rest of us with a statement that she will obviously never live down. Mind you, this is an extremely bright girl who was in advanced classes, many clubs and volunteer programs, etc. Because I don’t remember who asked which questions, I will simply refer to the unfortunate friend as “Her” and the questioner(s) as “Us.” We were discussing the holidays and turkeys. This friend and her sister gave names to all of their family brought in for the holidays. Of course I found this a bit disturbing considering my stance on eating turkeys or any other animal and the fact that she was naming something she would soon be eating. But we quickly noticed that every name she used was a male name.
Us: How do you know they’re all boys?
Her: All turkeys are boys. Turkeys are male chickens.
Us: What do you call a rooster?
Yes, we did break the news to her. And had some really good laughs.
And now, while cleaning the rest of the house and watching the news to find out what kind of damage the storm last night wrought on the city, I can’t help but think about turkeys and chickens and turkens. Or would they be chikeys?
I can’t really blame her, though. Until I studied abroad in London and visited the English countryside, I didn’t know that sheep were actually born with tails. But I blame that on a messed up agricultural system in this country.
While searching for a picture of a tailed sheep for you all, I found this amazing blog post http://for-the-pits.blogspot.com/2011/01/sheep-tails-and-magical-hybrids.html