Musings Around my Egg on a Sunday Morning

But no one is keeping score.

Despite attempts by animal activists, this is the fate of most chickens.
Despite attempts by animal activists, this is the fate of most chickens. | Source

My article today is dedicated to the Chicken


About as far from its ancestors, the wolves, as it could be, the Lhasa Apso, seen from my kitchen window, barks at a passing kid on a bike. Just a little fluff ball, it would have trouble challenging a chipmunk in the wild, but it is faithful in its devotion to the pack.

On BBC, mighty U2 strobes and transfixes the crowds at Glastonbury: trite words, heavy beat, sexuality they all crave; girls bounce in frenzy, wellies sucking mud, the boys standing behind them, passing around a joint, semi-erect, flushed and cooled by the British drizzle.

My budgies gaze out of the window and sing for - what - the bewilderment of why they cannot, too, soar and climb in the azure skies of a British late summer? I often weep as I sense their frustration, in part, similar to my own, as civilization also denies me the freedom our species once had as birthright.

Writing on this HP site, a trite salve to an ego unsatisfied by great deeds, by words that will stand for ever, immortal, or just for the peace of a simple wood.

Life in pastoral England, as boring as the grave; as stultified as the womb. Life by numbers, controlled by a cynical establishment themselves running to a schedule planned in Elizabethan England. Everything, in the end, is theirs by droit seigneur, the right of blood, of barons and kings. They hoard the pirate treasure taken from other lands: jewels, works of art; land itself.

On the TV the Politics Show, as the favored by birth and education defend the status quo of the hands which ultimately feed them.

Breakfast is an egg, the young of the planet’s most persecuted creature, the chicken. Doomed from birth to slaughter to live in misery: unable to move, live, love and raise its brood. Do eyes somewhere watch and prepare to punish man for his treatment of weaker creatures? Does Heaven rage at birds in a cage, as the poet maintained? Does it all matter when all life is merely a dance of atoms garnered from the matter bank which will soon return to be called on time and time again to satisfy the demands of restless energy?

Are there any truths of life that we can cling to once we realize the universe is uncaring; all fortune is a lottery; that talk of deities is just mental masturbation; that no evidence standing even the most cursory scrutiny proves the existence of supernatural beings? And never will. There may be yet many surprises in the universe and its laws but they will all be founded on what quantum physics has explained.

Even if other life as we describe it exists, it will have the same basic building blocks as ourselves; there is no other material out there. The star is you; you will be the star. Along with others, Charged and Charmed Particles hold the key to your birth.

I find all the belief in god, or gods, to be actually obscene at best and, at worst, madness. Fools bearing arms in the name of some deity or other; the church leaders, full of ambition, greed, stupidity and pedophilia. The wide-eyed idiocy on the faces of the mob.

But what a wonderful world it is once we lift our eyes from the groveling of man: the oceans, mountains, deserts, forests, the panorama of stars, planets and galaxies., and all the wondrous creatures that share this tiny spaceship, Earth.

The scabrous colonies fashioned by Homo sapiens - itself an oxymoron - will not last very long once we have gone. The ugly cities with the misery, crime, poverty and inequality. The killer automobile and its attendant disgrace of the fossil-fuel bondage. The airplane, crop-dusting pollution all over the land. And the disgusting entitlement of man over man.

Well, time to boil my egg and watch F1 in Spain: somewhat hypocritically hand-picking a few joys from another Sunday…


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Comments 10 comments

WillStarr profile image

WillStarr 5 years ago from Phoenix, Arizona

My dream is to sell my city home and move to the country, where I can have chickens lazing around the yard, looking for fat insects. There's nothing better for breakfast than a fresh laid egg, and it's worth the price of the peck on the hand from an angry hen.

There's really no other way to supply the world with eggs now that most people no longer keep chickens themselves.


MartieCoetser profile image

MartieCoetser 5 years ago from South Africa

Diogenes, I can but only quote you: “What a wonderful world it is once we lift our eyes from the groveling of man: the oceans, mountains, deserts, forests, the panorama of stars, planets and galaxies, and all the wondrous creatures that share this tiny spaceship, Earth.”


diogenes profile image

diogenes 5 years ago from UK and Mexico Author

Hi Will. Chickens would be happy with you. I have kept them a few times and there's still magic in finding those still-warm eggs in the straw.

Martie. I need to get back to my little Mexican village where the stars come down and rest on your face at night.

Bob


writeronline 5 years ago

This thoughtful piece has hatched a new question, Bob;

"Which came first, the egg or the philosopher?"


diogenes 5 years ago

Hi WOL: I believe it was an Indian thinker who developed through careful breeding, into the first philosopher.

Thanks for the visit and the conundrum...Bob


BobbiRant profile image

BobbiRant 5 years ago from New York

I've raised my own chickens,as well as goats and rabbits and it was pleasurable but it takes work,feeding them, fixing chicken houses and cleaning the chicken yard. I loved it but it's not for everybody I suppose. Good hub.


50 Caliber profile image

50 Caliber 5 years ago from Arizona

Well, I like my chickens and their eggs so I spose my pens for them is like setting up a little world, the only charges they pay is eggs and a smoke roasted sacrifice once a week. Come hunting season they suffered annihilation as there would be no one to feed water or put them to roost at the eve of the army of coyotes, so it was off with their heads, feathering pulled out , packing and freezing for other days as dead elk and deer joined them. Then it was off to joes and buy some fertile eggs and the world begins again for them in the incubator where the egg came before the chicken. Their world may well get a reprieve in 2011, as the daughters of their keeper may stay and tend them, will they know the difference? They are like most humans Oxygen-morons who hold no clue, save they are not a waste of oxygen and food, they return goods for what they receive in a world of humans who only take and in the end just fertilize sod and their survivors cut one anothers throats for the things that could not be taken with, as it will be with them, blind to the plight of grasping at the wind. While I choose to swing in my hammock and enjoy the passing wind and it's wondrous effects of peace, not knowing where it has been and not caring where it goes, life sans people is not half bad, eh? 50


diogenes 5 years ago

Hi Bobbi. The worst of chooks in the UK is the weather, they don't do well in the damp.

Hi 50 calibre. Yes. I am about to go find a cave! bob


Naomi's Banner profile image

Naomi's Banner 5 years ago from United States

You definately have an interesting way with words. I enjoyed this Hub very much. The picture saddens me. My love for creatures big and small does not allow tollerance for such. I do eat a log of eggs in my diet so contribute to the cause. Thanks for alluring us back to the inhumane way our society treats the helpless. Nice Hub indeed!


diogenes profile image

diogenes 5 years ago from UK and Mexico Author

Yes, poor little creatures. The only precious thing - or the most precious - is life itself and we take most of their lives away. It's so sad...Bob

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