The Menu for the 23rd of July, 2009
The Modern American Chicken
We begin on a small farm, in a field of bright green grass with hints of scattered dandelions.
***
In a pine coop bathed by a ray of morning sunlight, Henrietta, our bird, stretches for the first time. She lays in a soft, ochre nest, enshrined in a speckled brown shell.
***
As Henrietta pecks at feed and chatters with the others, she discerns that some of her kind never leave the egg while others, like herself, are destined to become ripe, full birds. Friends come and go on the farm; none stay too long. Still, she has no idea of how millions of her kin live.
As a thunderstorm roars and the rain begins, laughter drifts through the farmhouse window as Henrietta scratches amongst the dirt and leaves.
***
It is a good life of feed and open spaces. There are no sawed- off beaks here or boxes of wire or chemical needles.
Still, nothing lasts forever and everything has its place. And so, one Friday morning, just before 6 am, Henrietta is removed from her coop and taken to the barn where, after a few swift maneuvers, she lays headless upon the butcher’s table. Her innards splay outward, a rich and red sauce.
***
Not wanting to waste one bit of such a lovely animal, even her giblets, are a display of beauty. They are gathered by the butcher and carefully set aside.
Thank you, Henrietta.
