Dead chickens don't run


McNuggets, anyone?
London, ON, July 2010
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There's a chicken processing plant in my town. The second-hand reports of what it's like inside aren't pretty: 100,000 chickens a day, and sights and sounds that would turn us all into instant vegetarians and freak out our children for the rest of their lives.

The trucks that carry the chickens into the plant - the last mile, I guess - look like overgrown Lego creations. After months of seeing them from afar, I finally caught up with one as it turned into the security checkpoint. [Pause to consider security for chickens. There, I'm good.] I happened to have my camera on me (what, you're surprised?) so I ducked over to the side opposite the employees eating lunch on a nearby picnic table and started shooting.

Aside from the stench, I was struck by the absolute silence of the thing. No clucking, no movement, nothing. Either the poor birds had been drugged beyond consciousness for their final trip, or they were already dead. Either way, I'm eating far less chicken these days.

Your turn: Is the humble McNugget's dietary reign destined to end someday?
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