Warning: this post may not be suitable for some of our more sensitive viewers. Well, you’ve already seen the headless chicken photo, so what remains are the gory details…
In September of 1945, a farmer who lived in Fruita, Colorado by the name of Lloyd Olsen who raised chickens was killing large numbers of them to take to town for market, and using a hatchet for the fowl task. Most of the chickens obligingly died as expected, although chickens beheaded will sometimes kick and run about for several minutes before succumbing. One chicken, however, had his jugular spared and retained most of his brain stem, and was able to develop a blood clot to prevent bleeding out, and so remained ambulatory. The brain stem which remained controlled his breathing, digestion, and heart rate. The fowl also retained an ear. After his decapitation, the headless chicken got up, and began to strut around the farm.
The farmer took this curiosity and kept it in an apple box overnight, the next morning describing that “The damn thing was still alive.” The event then took on a life of its own, so to speak. As the rooster survived, Olsen let him continue to roam around. He would sleep with his neck stub tucked under his feathers, tried to peck for food with his neck stub, and even gained weight due to the chicken being fed milk and water directly into his esophagus with a dropper. He could even so digest small pieces of corn…
Recognizing how unique a living headless chicken was, his owner made a cash cow out of him, taking him on the road where he became a sideshow sensation, and earning 25 cents per head (so to speak) for people to gawk at him. At the height of his fame, Mike made his owners $4,500 per month...not exactly chicken feed, in the 1940’s.
Sadly while on road tour in Phoenix, Arizona his owners awoke to the sounds of Mike choking. As they had to suction mucus from his throat throughout the day, they would usually keep a syringe nearby, but had forgotten this equipment at a previous sideshow event. Mike couldn’t dislodge the mucus himself, and so suffocated in March of 1947, about 18 months after his decapitation. From the sideshow profits, however, his owners were able to buy a horse, mule, hay baler, two tractors, and a Chevrolet pickup truck.
A statue of Mike was erected, and Mike the Headless Chicken was awarded his own special festival day, celebrated annually in Fruita, Colorado with a chicken lunch, an egg toss, a chicken dance, a race, and even chicken bingo, which is chosen by chicken droppings that land on a bingo board! Mike would have liked that. Only in America…is this a great country, or what?!
– – If Batman and Catwoman had a child, the offspring might look something like this magnificent creature whose image originally came from Reddit and was popularized by the Huffington Post before spreading like wildfire throughout the Internet. Thought by a number of commentators to be a Maine Coon cat, this Batcat might not have a Robin, but could probably bring you one…Meow!
– – When something has more than four legs, it generally tends to inspire a cringe factor. Something with 750 legs would definitely then register high on the creepy and gross-out scale, and this little beauty is so compact as well; a white millipede named Illacme plenipes, which is Latin for “the pinnacle plentiful feet,” and measures a mere 1 – 3 centimeters long.
– – I’m always glad when giant eyeballs wash up on beaches, bringing to mind as they do such vintage sci-fi classics as 1958’s The Crawling Eye. Eyeballs by nature tend to make people squeamish, especially disembodied ones…and in time for Halloween, too!- -What a gift from the sea!
– – They sound like the perfect subject for a Saturday night original movie on the Syfy Channel: The Vampire Squid from Hell (Vampyroteuthis infernalis). They rather look like a bad movie monster, too, having a type of cloak-like webbing, unusually large deep blue or red eyes, and light-producing organs covering its entire body which it can flash! 
– – Some people have bucket lists of things that they want to do before they “kick the bucket,” that is, die…but I have a list of things to be worried about or afraid of, and I’ve just added something to that list…
FOXSYLVANIA 
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