And here’s a story I thought of on Sunday but was too sick to write it down until today:
The Israb-Arali Chicken
Once upon a time a man made this experiment.
He went downtown to a chicken store and bought the egg of a hen famous for producing great, fierce fighting roosters. He kept the egg warm, turned it properly and in due time a fuzzy male chick hatched.
The man raised the bird with the greatest love and tenderness, giving it food, drink, exercise and every fatherly attention. The chicken never knew fear or frustration—only peace and plenty, love and goodness.
At last the chicken arrived at its prime. It was a beautiful large creature with glossy blue-black tail plumes, yellow beak and red comb.
Covering the cock’s head with a hood, the man carried it to a nearby cock-fighting arena. He arranged a match and, feeling a little pang of sorrow for what he felt might be the murder of his peaceful protégé, he laced the razor-sharp steel fighting spurs to his cock’s spurs.
At the signal for the match to begin, the experimenter removed the hood and tossed his cock into the pit. At the same instant, the owner of the opposing cock tossed in his killer-trained bird.
For the first time in his life the pacifistically raised fowl saw another of his breed and in a feathery flash the battle was over.
In two deft strokes the peaceful bird had cut the throat and pierced the heart of his opponent.
The Moral: Genetics Rule: some creatures are born to kill.
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