Fran is the first one out of the barn every morning, hanging out with the other hens, sometimes going of by herself. What is the life of a chicken, really? Up to us,  I think. I can think about what I have, or what I don’t have. I can choose sadness over gratitude, hope over despair. Is life fair? Ask Fran, nearly starved by a farmer, almost eaten alive by a fox, almost pecked to death by her fellow hens. There she is, out there pecking bugs in the sunshine. My choice, really, how I want to look at life.

Is life fair? Life is life.