It was a deceptively cold day - the sun blazed freely through a cloudless sky, but no amount of sunshine could thwart the chill of the thin December air. A single two-lane highway meekly meandered through a vivid panorama of rolling hills, large brown-green patches of knee-high grasses, and sporadic trees half-full with dull yellow and dark red leaves. The occasional car happening by, together with the highway and a small abandoned gas station, seemed to somehow compliment the scenery rather than interfere with it.
-get to the other side-
When the grey 1996 Toyota Camry passed in front of the gas station, Chicken sensed something. This was the hour. This was the moment upon which heroes are forged in the searing heat of a trial. This was not a simple hunt-seed-find-seed-eat-seed mission hardwired into the DNA of all chickens - this was a true test of blood. Of feathers. Of beaks.
-get to the other side-
The phrase dominated Chicken's consciousness, with a bold lucidity not typically found in poultry. Indeed, Chicken's conscious thoughts were usually along the lines of Oh shit there's a dog! or Oh shit there's a cat! or Oh shit this enormous building is full of hens SCORE!!! But today, on this brisk, picturesque afternoon, all of Chicken's forefathers seemed to unify in Chicken's head, coalescing in one crystalline mantra:
-get to the other side-
A cautious foot forward. The head, nervously tilting at all angles. Feathers ruffling. There is no sound. There is no cold. There is only a task.
-get to the other side-
Footfall footfall footfall faster faster faster
-get to the other side-
First lane has been crossed!
-get to the other side-
Impossibly, Chicken was increasing his speed. For good measure he flapped his wings, which did seem to boost him forward even faster still.
-get to the other side-
...first the left foot made contact with the new world, then the right. The heart pounded but steadily slowed back to a familiar pace. Chicken looked around, back toward the gas station, then to the left, then to the right, then up, inexplicably. Chicken had done it! Though no audience was present to record the occasion for posterity, a blow was struck at that moment for chickens everywhere. To the extent that one can achieve this when one has a beak for a mouth, Chicken smiled.
EPILOGUE
Some time later, Chicken, still basking in the afterglow of his immortal accomplishment, happened upon one of his nearest and dearest colleagues, Chicken.
Chicken breathlessly related his tale of conquest and victory. Chicken listened to his friend's amazing tale, enraptured by the implications. Perhaps we will realize our full potential after all, he thought.
"One last thing, Chicken," said Chicken, "I'm going to have to tell all of my friends about this. They're going to ask me, 'What made him do it? What drove him, down deep in his gullet?' What will I say to them?"
"Tell them, said Chicken, pausing theatrically for maximum effect, "tell them I did it...to get to the other side."
A smile did not, but would have with a different type of mouth, slowly cross the face of Chicken as he mused over this ironic twist. Of course that's not what they were asking...oh! That's rich! They'll be asking for Chicken's inner motivation, not the mere short-term reason! What a hilarious distortion of expectations!
Chicken followed suit with the same non-expression. The two then joined together to share a long and hearty non-laugh.