When I think about chickens this is what I think about: chicken, the pejorative, cowardly, lily-livered, milquetoast, Brave Brave Sir Robin from Monty Python who "quickly turned his tail and fled."
But don't let chickens fool you. They're biological cousins to the T. rex Sue. You know, Sue, the largest hen who ever roamed the earth?
I'm working on being more assertive. Not "more assertive" hell, I'm working on being just the slightest smidgen of assert. Ever so slightly having a point and standing(ish) for something. Maybe. I'm passive-aggressive as jellyfish.
But I think of my kids, those dear little wide-eyed sponges watching me and I want to model something for them besides drifting cantankerously and becoming really really repressed. So chickens! Wandering about, pecking, expressing their world views.
Living out loud in the yard, clucking. They can't fly. Brave. I have much to learn from them; I already have names for them: Athena, Demeter, Bad-Ass, and Take No Shit.