Bounty of the Eastern Shore

NIKA STANDEN HAZELTON

The most vivid memory of a trip to a chicken festival on the Eastern Shore of Maryland is of a chicken shed, where thousands and thousands and thousands of red hens sat daintily in the sawdust when they were not laying in appropriate cubicles. Filtered sunlight streaked into the shed, illuminating the lady hens (for they definitely were ladies). They were there to produce fertilized eggs for one of the local multi-milliondollar, egg – through – market – ready chicken enterprises. The whole scene was reminiscent of a peaceful harem. Had it not been for the abominable smell of live chickens, however clean they are kept, I would have moved right in with them for a gentle life with a simple purpose.

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Nika Hazelton

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NIKA STANDEN HAZELTON

The most vivid memory of a trip to a chicken festival on the Eastern Shore of Maryland is of a chicken shed, where thousands and thousands and thousands of red hens sat daintily in the sawdust when they were not laying in appropriate cubicles. Filtered sunlight streaked into the shed, illuminating the lady hens (for they definitely were ladies). They were there to produce fertilized eggs for one of the local multi-milliondollar, egg – through – market – ready chicken enterprises. The whole scene was reminiscent of a peaceful harem. Had it not been for the abominable smell of live chickens, however clean they are kept, I would have moved right in with them for a gentle life with a simple purpose.