Just one of those strange moments.
Watching Sky News as the situation in Libya continues to unfold. Some video from this morning, from outside Benghazi, runs.
A bright sunny day. Something explodes in the background, sending up a black-streaked fireball. People run in various directions. Small-arms fire rattles. In the far background, a burning truck full of exploding ammo sends tracer and other rounds spitting and spraying into the air as they catch fire and explode. “Look at that cookin’ ’em off,” says the ex-RAF type in the next room, watching with mild interest as nearby humans dive for cover.
In the foreground, a burning car. White once, now smoking and sooted black, the paint blistered. And standing next to it in the road, looking at it in great bemusement…
…a chicken. Kind of pale-beige looking. Probably a hen. She stands there on long thin legs, seemingly unflustered, and regards the burning car. Tilts her head. Looks at the car some more. If a chicken could have a thought balloon over her head that said “WTF?!”, this chicken would have it.
She is a credit to all chickenkind. However chickens without their heads might run around, she’s having no truck with such behavior. In the face of loud noises, stuff blowing up, and the world media, she stands her ground, while the camera crew reacts to the most recent explosion by diving behind the burning car to hide.
Today the phrase “playing chicken” acquires a newer and prouder meaning.