We've finally found the perfect companion for the Caporal Kid, a recent cowboy chicken discovery! And it wasn't easy.
They've got the same perky attitude, even the same cute little boots. But they are approaching things from different angles. The Caporal Kid had more of the showman in him, and the showman—not to mention the banker, the laborer, and the schoolmarm—surely had some of him in them. (Applause.) But the Kid was down for rounding up the whole herd of "food" animals and delivering them to the plates and bellies of this great nation.
Chicky seems to be out for the birds, and the rest of those delicious, edible critters be danged.
For Chicky, it's all about the chickens. Chickens being eaten. By other chickens. By humans. Hell, Chicky'd probably be fine with chickens being eaten by turtles! As long as chickenkind winds up digesting in someone's—or something's—intestines, Chicky's square with the world.
Addendum: Or should we be reading this a different way? As in this long-ago post, are Chicky's customers being surreptitiously insulted, called a bunch of yella chickens?