Chicken dance.

So Friday is International Respect for Chickens Day.

Chickens love, too.

Yeah! What they said!

I'm not one to lecture. I'm certainly not a dictionary-definition vegetarian. While I don't eat any meat products (gelatin, broth, noneathat - ew!), I do eat fish (a girl needs some protein), so I'd have to technically call myself a pescetarian. And, admittedly, I have (I assume, they could be knockoffs) leather shoes and bags. But even at my weakest moments - just thoughts, no action! - I cannot imagine ever eating chicken again.

Seriously. Have you seen Food, Inc.? No lecture, I promise, but those poor chickens.

My egg guilt remains. Something I've talked about often, and Brad was so sweet to alleviate some of it by sponsoring a chicken in my name a few years ago (read here and here). But, again, a girl needs protein, plus, a chicken is GOING to lay eggs. It's just a fact of nature. That being said, there's no reason not to be nice to poor lady chicken laying said eggs. So I always buy the local-est, farm fresh-est, cage-free, happy (as can be) eggs. I'm not crazy about it. If I eat eggs at your house, I'm not going to ask or probably even think about it. And I try not to worry about it when I eat breakfast out. But I do what I can.

And today, and the rest of the week (and all year!), I give respect to our feathered friends - who can resist faces like this?

 

 Cluck cluck, friends. Cluck cluck.