The Weight of a Chicken

I took an evening hike with two dear colleagues. These walks serve several purposes, of which one of my favourites is hearing stories of my colleagues’ lived experiences. I was lucky the trio of us had already exchanged warm words before, so not much more social knitting needed to be done. I knew the way, having planned that excursion, and so led from the front for the most part. The other two were happy to follow, their minds free to regard each other and the lush surroundings, and to chat about whatever came to mind.

The hardest and grandest part was done, Mt Faber climbed, and its views enjoyed. We cut through Bukit Merah towards Redhill. All throughout, wherever there was open green space, we spied (domestic) Jungle Fowl foraging, small groups of usually one splendid cock and a handful of hens, who payed us no mind but focussed intently on the grass beneath them searching for whatever tasty bugs might be a-hiding.

It so happened my colleague’s father had business in India rearing chickens. My colleague had also previously revealed if he weren’t working in technology he might have been an organic farmer, on whose farm chickens would have an important place. While the chicken groups we encountered were small, we did encounter group after group. We passed yet another group of foraging chickens as we crossed Bukit Merah Central, and my colleague eyeing the chickens started labelling them by weight. It turns out, like how some people pride themselves in being able to look at another person and make accurate assessments of their weight, my colleague has a similar talent, but specifically for chickens. I am finding myself rocking with glee and a sense of pride and delight that the talent of sizing up chickens exists in a software engineering team.