Henny-Penny Redux

A funny thing happened on the way to the grocery store: I spotted a large, black chicken walking in the ditch across the street. Only it wasn’t a chicken; it was a turkey vulture.

Not knowing this, I became a modern-day Henny-Penny and sounded the alarm: “One of Eric’s chickens is loose,” I shouted to my family. My mind raced ahead to the fear that my neighbor’s wandering hen would be hit by a car, or worse, torn apart by dogs. But when my husband strolled outside and laughed at the huge turkey vulture masquerading as a chicken, I realized my mistake and betrayed, once again, my suburban roots.

Chicken keepers are springing up all around Durham, now that a new ordinance has allowed their presence. Those of us lucky enough to eat the resulting eggs know that we’re eating something different. The yolks are a deeper shade of yellow, the shells are tougher, and the eggs themselves taste richer.

What I like most, though, are the colors of the shells. When Eric and Katie bring us a new dozen, there’s often at least one that’s a light pink. Some are gray, and others are tan and cream-colored. None are bleached white, like the ones you get at Kroger.

They also have warts and spots on them, and they range in size.

Sort of like people.

And sort of like the health care bill. Some, who like Henny-Penny, think the sky is falling and America is doomed. And the rest of us who know an acorn when it hits us: the start of a whole new life and a whole new way of taking care of ourselves and each other.