One Funky Chicken

It's late, I'm tired, I really need gas. And THIS is keeping guard over the tanks. I thought it was a stuffed animal for the longest time - until it moved. I honestly couldn't figure out what I was seeing. Boldly I crouched down so I could get a look at its face - gasp! A crooked beak, sunken wide eyes, elongated neck, and Rastafarian hair-do.

I ran into the little house where the attendant was flipping through a newspaper. He looked up when I poked my head in. "Excuse me - there's some crazy looking bird out there! I think it's a chicken!" I yelled-whispered as if the thing could hear me. He looked up slowly, sighed, and said wearily "Is no chicken, is a rrrrooster," he corrected in a thick Middle Eastern accent. "Oh." (awkward pause - I thought there would be an element of surprise here, but I was probably the 100th person to annoy him that day with a chicken sighting). "Is he ok?" I asked.

He explained he lives next door and keeps coming over to hang out in the gas station. He is either getting kicked out of the coop by his fellow chicken mates or he's in a snit about something. Or maybe he just likes people, the attendant said.

Either way, this was one of the most peculiar creatures I had ever met in person, and I had to reach out to our resident bird expert Jim Botta for help. He said it is actually a Polish chicken, a domestic breed known for its fancy feathers. Ironic that we were in Riverhead not far from "Polish Town."