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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Where Chickens Roam

 Recently, Jon and I stumbled into one of those trendy, new restaurants in Dallas. Apparently, it's in vogue to have such bad lighting, old people can't see where to walk, sit, or read a menu. Soon, a thin, sufficiently tattooed waitress came over to explain our choices. She started off by saying all their beef was grain fed and they only served free range chickens. At this point, I didn't hear another word, as my mind began to wander.

 How, exactly do you capture and kill a free range chicken? Do you chase it around the yard with an ax, or sneak up on it with a gun? I thought about the little chicken running around, the "range", eating worms and singing like Louie Armstrong, What A Wonderful World. Then suddenly, there's a giant with an ax. Would it be less cruel to raise the chick in a tightly populated pen, knowing her fate?

 Also, these grain fed cows, the waitress spoke of, might prefer to be grazing in a meadow somewhere. Grass has got to be better than grain. Cows always look so sad. Maybe the fresh air and sunshine in a green pasture is just what they need. But, if that's true, maybe it isn't so bad to let the chickens run free, while they can.

 I don't really care to hear what my dinners life was like before, and I believe there are many others, who feel the same. Maybe the restaurant should rethink their strategy. I ordered a salad.

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A wife, mother, and spoiler of small dogs, I grew up in a small West Texas town, with my eyes full of sand, and my heart full of joy.


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