Thoughts on the Buffalo Wing Festival
One evening as I was driving home from work, a transport truck sped by me on the highway. The truck contained hundreds if not thousands of chickens. They were jammed packed in small crates and could not even lift their heads. The force of the wind blew so hard on their fragile bodies that their feathers were scattering all over the highway. I raced up to the truck so I could look into their eyes and somehow communicate how sorry I was. We do owe them that. When I finally got close enough, I stared into the soul of one individual. She was so sad and frightened.
It was quite disturbing to think that we as sensitive and caring human beings would treat a gentle bird in such an abusive way. At the end of their painful journey, these sweet birds are yanked violently from their cages and thrown to the ground. They do scream as they are killed. Have you ever heard a human being shriek in desperation and fear? It sounds the same. I am not sure we realize all the pain and suffering that goes on behind “chicken wings.” Chicken wings are just that, the wings of innocent birds. They belong to them, not us. (Artvoice v9n29)
Tracy Murphy, Cheektowaga
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