Evolution from Kansas: Return to the Land of Chickens

When we first moved to our town in Kansas, there were these chickens nearby. Pecking in their front yards. Making noise whenever they wanted. We thought it was odd. Then the local paper had this article about the chickens. Some people wanted the chickens gone, others argued their case. Even though current city codes didn't allow them, some people could keep their chickens. They grandfathered them in. Mister Man once said, "what kind of place allows this?"

Obviously, he hadn't moved to California yet. Because up the street, there are chickens. The Redhead and I are blessed by a rooster's noisemaker every single morning. And that's nothing in comparison to the Land of the Chickens.

We first visited the Land of the Chickens last October, sans Mister Man. There was a Chicken Festival and we didn't stay long because before we knew it, it started to rain in the land of little rain. The Redhead was in her cast, so I did what any resourceful mother would do, I slipped her arm in my purse and had her wear my purse like a sling. And then the big drops started coming. We headed back to the car, just in case it would rain harder. It rarely rains hard here, but I didn't want to take any chances with her cast. It was disappointing getting back to the car after a mere hour or so of festivities, especially as long as it took us to find parking. But we finally made it the car, got inside, and as soon as we shut the doors, hard rain was falling. Perfect timing. It was raining so hard, I could barely see the road, the only time I've come across this in California. I was used to driving in such conditions in Kansas, however, you could tell other drivers were not.

The next time we made it to the Land of the Chickens, it was December and we were awaiting a Christmas parade. What we remember most from this experience were the chickens in the trees. Chickens! In trees! Who knew?! The parade was cute too. And we liked meandering through the streets, perusing the shops. But the chickens had our attention. Sadly, we had not been to the Land of the Chickens since.

The annual Chicken Festival was on Saturday. It's in the Land of the Chickens, which isn't its actual name. It's in Fair Oaks. There are all these chickens, chickens without owners that are free to roam about. If you want to ask yourself why chickens cross the road, this is the land for you. However, if you want to catch tonight's dinner, this probably isn't the land for you. And if you're scared of chickens, well, run far, far away.

For $5, The Redhead could play all the games she wanted.

You never know what sort of people you might see.

Our $5 for games also included the bouncy houses.

While in a little shop, we saw a chicken running behind the candy counter. Then this lovely lady picked him up and carried him and asked The Redhead if she'd like to pet him.

She also allowed me to take photos. It was her idea, actually. I was hesitant. I don't want to just assume I can take pictures of strangers holding poultry. But I'm glad she suggested it.