The chickens are not organized!
I'm in a shuttle bus riding to Rochester from Minneapolis right now. (I'm blogging from my phone.) So we just drove past a truck packed with cages which were, in turn, packed with chickens.
As we passed the truck, I watched the chickens. Some were poking their little chickenheads out of the cages as if trying to see where they were going. Others were huddling deep inside, pushing up against other chickens, trying to avoid the wind, but succeeding only in becoming a fluffy mass of wind-blown feathers.
I reached deep inside looking for those feelings of guilt and sympathy that I was sure would be there. I found only two thoughts: food, pillows.