When the girls were younger, I must admit I used to deflect their query of where do chickens come from. I wouldn’t call it a lie but an art of deflection because it was far too complicated to explain. Plus there were far too many ‘whys’ at that young age, it was tough to answer the non-stop queries. You know, when you thought you gave a satisfactory answer, they’d counter back with a ‘why?’ and it goes on to frustrate the daylights out of you.
So I told them, when they were young, that chickens came from the supermarket. Every time when we were at grocery store, the chicken was right there, at the meat section to justify my answer. So simple. No further explanations required.
Last Friday, we brought the girls to a real chicken farm and the old explanation of chickens coming from the supermarket was finally squashed.
It was a little self-run chicken farm managed by a retired engineer. The farm was very clean; there was no foul (pun intended) odor in the air nor any droppings on the ground. The girls were fascinated and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, even when the alpha goose chased them.
On top of rearing chickens, the engineer also has an al fresco area for dining on what else but chicken dishes! Curry chicken, rendang chicken, fried chicken and salt baked chicken.
It was the healthiest of chicken dishes and one dining experience that M1 will remember for sometime. The good host made her promise to do well at university and when she comes back for her holidays, he will give her a free chicken, flavor of choice, to savor. How nice.
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