On January 23, 2019, we rescued a soggy chicken from the middle of a highway. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on this particular ride home. The day had been relatively uneventful—until we went to turn off 113. In between the two flows of traffic, slow as they were at 9 o’clock, was a white blob. Initially it was hard to tell what it was through the rain, but sure enough, it was a chicken.  

There was obviously some debate about what to do in this situation; did we leave it, did we get it, did we call someone? Eventually, driven by the idea that I couldn’t just leave a chicken in the middle of the road—the pun wasn’t lost on me, believe me—I convinced my mother that we needed to fetch the chicken. She took a leftover clothes bag and came back with a shivering chicken to drop in my lap. 

My dad is probably jaded about being presented with animals that he gave no consent to own, but here we were. We set the chicken up with some newspaper, water, and a heat lamp in the bottom of a dog crate and hoped for the best.  

Time saw the chicken warm up and start moving, despite missing some feathers. We transplanted the newly named Hei Hei to an old dog pen, complete with dog house. Eventually the chicken learned that it was warm in the house and found an odd fondness for pecking at clovers. Hei Hei also had a tendency to follow you around the pen. 

Sadly, our story comes to an end a little over one month after the discovery of my chicken. Last week, March 13, an animal got into the pen and killed our chicken.  

Hei Hei, you will be missed by many. I’m glad I could temporarily extend your lifespan. Rest in piece. We love you.