“Chickens without End” by Julia Jeffrey

When I stand up on resurrection day, will I be able to walk, or will there be too many chickens? Will they crowd around me, their plush feathers brushing against my shins, their eyes blinking and their strawberry-red combs wobbling, as they scratch briskly at the ground?

What? You’ve never wondered that before?

I’m staggered by the number of chickens around the globe. Over 25 billion on Earth right now. Each one a creation of God with a spirit. Each (hopefully) thrilled to fulfill the measure of their creation and nourish the children of God. Won’t these obedient creatures be resurrected too? They’ll have to be put somewhere. Will we all wade through a sea of chickens eternally?

“If you want to talk numbers,” you may say, “why worry about chickens? Think of how many resurrected ants and spiders there will be.”

No, thank you. Pondering on the eternal destiny of chickens is less likely to give me nightmares.

People testify of occasions they sensed a deceased pet checking in on them or offering comfort. Personally, I have never been aware of any visits from chicken spirits. I do hope to be reunited with my departed birdies in the eternities. I will cherish the opportunity to carry them under my arm again, smooth their silky backs and necks, and exchange soft bawks and buh-gawks.

I suppose not all of them will be happy to see me, particularly the ones I loved and then ate. I’ll understand if those prefer to keep their celestial distance from me.

Perhaps the near-infinite chickens will have a perfect world all their own. (The ants and spiders would receive similar treatment I suppose, but let’s not dwell on that.) Can you imagine chicken heaven? Valleys, forests, and mountains all with chickens standing beak to tail, like a multi-hued, feathered carpet that jerks and starts and squawks. Birds without end!

When I stand up on resurrection day, I’m definitely going to visit chicken paradise.