#62: Emotional Hens

Hello weather watchers,

Weeks, days, hours, they blend together sometimes. But cartoons, well cartoons stick around. Like these ones.

This week, we see an emotional standoff and look at the Solstice from a different perspective.

Keeping the light on,
Chris

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Caption: “You walk 10 paces that way, and I'll walk 10 paces this way, and let's settle this without talking about our emotions.”

Emotions. Huh. Who needs them?

I’ve always been puzzled by duels, though. Two people, guns at the ready, decide that they only way to settle their differences is by avoiding swallowing their pride and, you know, talking. And the duel always seemed to be over such petty small things.

I guess not much has changed, really.

A little artist’s note: Cowboys are actually really fun to draw.

But you’ll notice something pretty intentional here in that the guns are barely visible. Is it because I’m not a huge fan of guns? Partly. Is it because I haven’t bothered to learn how to draw guns properly? Also partly. But there is something fairly joyous about seeing these two fellas in all their emotion-filled anger. What could possibly go wrong?

Caption: “It's the Solstice, ladies, meaning today will be exactly as long as every other day. Ever.”

It’s that time of the year. The longest day. The shortest day. Depending on your hemisphere.

Except for if you’re a battery hen. Then, no matter what time of the year it is, it’s simply going to be Day. Not long, not short. Just.. day.

Buy Free Range, people. The free-er, the better.

A little artist’s note: For worse or for better, I’m quite an early riser. Which means that I am acutely aware of how long, or short, the days are. And, if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere like I am, you would know that the days feel very short at the moment. It’s like there is no sun until 8am, and then it’s out the door by no later than 5pm. And then the whole thing starts over again. And again.

But all that got me thinking about how others might feel about the short days. And about those who wouldn’t care. Or those who couldn’t. And I remembered the poor battery hens. These hens whose days are governed by a carefully timed light bulb.

It’s a horrible practice. And I hope one that will be stamped out.

Thanks for reading MiddleSquiggle!

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