Spirit of the River

.... basically is that they are not chickens.  Beware: this post is unedited, more like a stream of consciousness. I didn't want to write something structured and thought through today. I won't be offended if you don't read this. I'm just writing it to get it out of my system. When I lived in New Zealand, I took care of quite a few chickens for a few years, and even though I did not have a good human friend to talk to, I always had the chickens, especially my dear rooster Frodo (who died last year, without my presence, because I had to move to the UK). Chickens are far more accepting than people. The chickens only cared about how I treated them. Nothing else mattered. Not the colour of my skin, not the colour of my eyes, not the colour or length of my hair. It did not matter to them whether I wore trousers or a skirt. They did not care about my religion, about my race, about my culture. They simply do not judge based on these things. You can be connected to chick...