Oh, what a beautiful morning! The sun is shining, the chicken parts are snug in their plastic wrap, and the birds are singing their canto alegre, their "cheerful song!"
Knowing that the limbs they used to call their own are now ensconced so lovingly, so antiseptically, so commercially, the pollos can't help warbling.
Her eyelashes flashing, this chicken gazes approvingly at the Styrofoam tray of legs. She can hardly wait until that's her down there, her own legs and wings efficiently and impersonally arranged and packaged.
And do you know what else makes chickens sing a cheerful song of grateful gladness?
The thought of hanging, plucked and processed, from the (dis)assembly line hooks while skilled inspectors caress them with rubber gloves!
They're just romantics at heart!