When I went over to visit, Carmen was all excited, about a chicken in her yard.  She took many pictures, and a movie, or two—which she kept animatedly displaying.

      Then, the chicken came back.  Carmen was all excited about the chicken.  She wanted to have me help her, contain the chicken.  The things she suggested, made me concerned for the chicken's safety (i.e. panic, etc.).  Finally, Carmen coaxed the chicken, onto the porch, and shut the door.  "Now, you and Scott, take good care of my pet!"

      Well, as soon as Scott (her Husband) got back, he–promptly–shooed the chicken, out of the porch.

      It was a very friendly chicken:

      And completely unperturbed by automobile work. . . .

      And the chicken, rather promptly, decided that he lived there.  He even (territorially) chased off the squirrel (which the Landlord *HATES*).

      Finally, the chicken, settled down for the night—roosting on a wiper blade, of the Mercury Mariner.  She seemed very content—and looked as if, she were about to drop an egg. . . .

      The story gets even more interesting.  Scott posted the chicken's plight, on a Facebook thing-a-ma-jiggy called "Chelmsford News."  Responses started pouring (#3 "She looks peckish." warrants mentioning. . . .)  But then, the OWNER contacted us—and promptly showed up.

      We were then to learn the chicken's name—"Fried."  ( :p :P ) We were also to learn, that she was wont, to hitch rides, in the back of pickup trucks.  Not terribly long ago, she was found at a Cumberland Farm's, over on Drum Hill.  :p ;) The chicken, got home safely.

       :) :) :) :)

      All this made me think—about the tremendous dichotomy, of humans' capacity for both cruelty and kindness.  I mean–here we were–bending over backwards, for the saftey and well-being of . . . a chicken.  And yet, RoSie (my wolf hybrid) and I—have probably eaten over a 100 of them.

      In fact, just a day or two later, Scott and I were talking, about the (tremendous) profits that can be had, in selling animal flesh.  But shortly afterwards said, " . . . but it was a cute chicken."

      Does this mean, that humans' compassion—is determined, solely by an animal's pulchritude?  (Or–and I can't resist–their poultritude? ( :) ;) )).  Maybe I should start breeding cute cows.

      I hope nobody, read that out of context.  (!)