Chicken Farmer I Still Love You

Driving along the backroads, heading towards a weekend of camping in Vermont, we passed by a rock set back from the roadside emblazoned with a message, “Chicken Farmer I Still Love You”.

I was driving our 38-feet of motorhome, towing a car carrying 2 kayaks, and my husband, knowing me all too well yelled out, “DO NOT STOP TO TAKE A PICTURE! We’re losing light!”

Rats! Losing light! That is the camper’s mantra, the driving force on which all major decisions are made. Losing light means a few minutes lost taking pictures of a cryptic message on a rock in the middle of nowhere might make the difference between having to pull into a tight space in pitch black deep-woods dark, or maybe, hopefully, having a wee bit of light by which to maneuver our bulk into a harbor of rest. I drove on, but the image of that rock, which came to be known as “Chicken Rock”, stuck with us through the winter.

Last week, my husband surprised me with a birthday adventure, starting with a wonderful breakfast at a little out-of-the-way place that just might make crepes as good as mine. We continued west toward the Green Mountains of Vermont, one of my favorite places on Earth. Along the way, he’d set the GPS to stop by “Chicken Rock” so I could finally take the photos I’d wanted.

Back in the car, our conversation picked up right where we’d left it during the last snowstorm which had kept us homebound. Who do you think she was?”, my daughter asked.

We spent the next half hour speculating if she was perhaps someone who rejected a Chicken Farmer Suitor, wanting the big bright lights of New York City, just a half-days drive south.

Or maybe she was married “our” Chicken Farmer, someone who was growing in our imaginations to be Upright, Worthy and Noble for leading such a simple life, while she was becoming Shallow, Self-Centered and Troubled, no doubt complaining about the routine of feeding, cleaning and egg-gathering, day-in and day-out. Daniel, always creative, piped in that “maybe she discovered she was allergic to chickens!” Of course, in my head were thoughts I kept to myself, hoping that Chicken Farmer was the one wronged and not the sinner. What if HE was the one who wanted Something More, and found his wife and mundane life to be Not Quite Enough and the message on the rock was her plea for him to come home. The possibilities were endless, but in all of them, I noticed how traditional we were.

“Maybe”, my husband said, “maybe she went to the Big City, discovered life to be even less fulfilling and realizing she made a mistake she drove back to the farm only to see he’d married someone else, and that’s just her way of letting him know she’ll wait for him.” Oh, the male ego………

“Yeah”, my daughter said, “But then she should have just gone back to her Big City Life because she’s the one who didn’t like chickens in the first place.” Her tone indicated she felt more sorry for the chickens than the love that was apparently lost.

Several months ago, my husband found an online article providing the real tale behind Chicken Rock. I can have great willpower when I need to, and I had decided not to read the “real” story until I had my photos. Now that I’ve pasted the photos in, and written some of our speculations, I’ll go read the link he forwarded to me, and, hopefully, I will not be left feeling gullible or foolish for wanting love to win………..

…because, I do hope, whoever wrote that message, found love.

  1. Hello! My husband and i got married on Oct. 4, 2008 and we took our honeymoon in NH. We passed by and laughed about this rock many times! But we forgot to take a picture of it! His birthday is this Thursday, the 6th (I am behind!) I wondered if you could send me the digital of this shot so i could have it blown up as a birthday surprise – he will love it! Thank you for any help you can offer! Kasey Gurley

    — Kasey Gurley    Nov 3, 05:58 PM    #
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