Story of an Autumn Chicken by Jen Grisard Ludwig – SEE SAW Comics, Webcomics from the Sequential Artists Workshop

Story of an Autumn Chicken by Jen Grisard Ludwig

â€œStory of an Autumn Chicken by Jen Grisard Ludwigâ€ A forest covered in autumn leaves, with the silhouette of an anthropomorphic chicken in the background.

â€œThe red chicken just turned 48. The harder years are showing in her beak. She canâ€™t help but reflect on how she got hereâ€¦â€ An anthropomorphic red chicken is looking at her reflection in the mirror, touching her eyebags with dismay.

â€œSheâ€™s always felt the world putting a crate around her as she became a hen. From biddyhood, the chicken lived under a narrow set of expectations.â€ A young chicken wearing a pink dress holds up a chick doll angrily. â€œItâ€™s not that these rules were ever stated. But, they were loud and clear. It could have been a farm initiation class with visual aidsâ€¦â€ An elderly hen wearing a pink dress points to a poster and says, â€œEvery hen has one purpose.â€

A timeline chart with footnotes explaining each point, labeled with the following text: â€œStandard chicken run for farm* (*metaphor for the Midwest) hens: Chick: Hatch (1. Preferably in a same-breed coop with archaic values.) Biddy: K-12 (2. Learn to be hen-like.â€ Pullet: Work a little (3. As a secretary or cashier; just to afford pretty feathers to find a cockerel.) Marry a mate (4. While young and peckish. Preferably to a fertile rooster who isnâ€™t an artist. Or drug dealer.) Broody: Hatch chicks (5. Preferably many bantam females; hopefully none of which becomes too educated.) Marry off chicks ASAP (6. Preferably to fertile mates who arenâ€™t artists. Or drug dealers.) Become an old hen, hoping for grand chicks. Comic key: Chick = baby Biddy = child Bantam = petite Pullet = adolescent Cockerel = young rooster Broody = adult/breederâ€

â€œThis chicken hasnâ€™t adhered to that fast-track chicken run. She added a few steps. Omitted others. She was a square egg in a round nest.â€ A red no symbol containing a chick doll with a pacifier and a diamond ring with a bouquet of flowers.

â€œLetâ€™s start from the very beginning, as stories doâ€¦ â€˜Late hatcherâ€™ might best describe this chicken. (She still tends to run notoriously late.)â€ An intact egg sits next to broken eggs shells thinking, â€œhum dee dumâ€¦â€

â€œAs a young biddy, she lived wild in her imagination, largely left undisturbed by the elders on the farm. But, she was also often alone, growing aware she was of a different feather. Even within her own flock.â€ A young red biddy paints the side of a cardboard box that other white-feathered chicks are playing inside. She sits by a tree reading while other white chicks sit and chat at picnic tables.

â€œHer imagination was her best company. At home, she still played with Birdieâ„¢ fashion dolls in middle school. And, at school she did nerdy, un-hen-like things like draw comics and (gasp!) read books.â€ The red chicken sits at her desk drawing comics, while white chickens throw balls of paper at her and one says, â€œEew.â€

â€œOccasionally, salvation came in a teacher or friend who saw these things as attributes. It gave her wings.â€ The red chicken smiles as her friend looks at her comic and laughs from enjoyment, and a teacher looks on at her proudly.

â€œMost of her biddyhood, though, she felt a little lost. A little trapped.â€ The red chicken looks out of a car window at a rainy day outside the barn.

â€œTo make matters worse, pullethood came and meant only caring about preening and getting dates. Those were seeds she couldnâ€™t swallow.â€ Two white cheerleader chickens laugh and touch the shoulders of a buff rooster in a football uniform. In the foreground, the red chicken rolls her eyes and sighs.

â€œShe knew she was attracted to cockerels back then, but she didnâ€™t get close to any of them.â€ The red hen, wearing a shirt that says â€œnew cocks on the block,â€ looks solemnly as a white chicken calls out to her, â€œFat chick!â€ three times.

â€œSo, through high school, she just kept her head down, respected the pecking order, and made her own plans.â€ The red hen smiles as she paints at a canvas next to a stack of textbooks.

â€œShe would go to college, study art, and maybe one day become the hen she wishes she could be.â€ A spread of college brochures and applications: Homestead University, Scythe U, Till State University.

â€œAway at college, life was a clean canvas. The things she loved to do became tangible skills. Her mind burst with possibilities! She truly began to hatch.â€ The red hen is doing a charcoal figure drawing of a nude white chicken model. Other students are also working on canvases.

â€œBeyond scholastic learning, the chicken also made similar friends and loved sharing an apartment with roommatesâ€”a living style sheâ€™d follow for a decade. Fun managed to peck away at school and work stress. She LOVED throwing parties! She also started getting to know cockerels. Physically and platonically.â€ The red hen is drinking and dancing along with other inebriated college chickens holding red solo cups at a house party.

â€œShe was doing well on her own, enjoying her collegiate chickenhood. But, no matter how successful she felt in her life, one nagging theme was like recurring avian flu.â€ The red hen sits in a lecture hall listening to her professor.

The red hen looks down solemnly, holding luggage as she is seemingly suffocated by large speech bubbles surrounding her, reading, â€œWhen will you settle down? / Maybe if you lost some feathersâ€¦ / Heâ€™d make beautiful chicks. / That one likes you, date him! / Why canâ€™t you find a rooster? / Donâ€™t let yourself get too old! / You could meet more roosters ifâ€”â€œ

â€œShe DID date, but her heart was also focused on other thingsâ€¦ Love of art. Building a resume. Fun new social life. Her dreams!â€ The red hen is happily surrounded by friends eating and drinking at a dinner table.

â€œItâ€™s not that she didnâ€™t have any relationships with some broilers* (*Roosters raised for meat.) (In hindsight, she really had fun with the cocks** (**Heh heh) she met in those days.â€ The heads of various roosters with different feather-styles and personalities smile.

â€œShe endured her fair share of heartache, too. She felt completely plucked after a breakup. Sheâ€™d feel like a failure to the world that seemed to revolve around mating.â€ The hen lies in bed looking dejected, with a broken heart floating above her head.

â€œBut, time healed the rotten eggs! Flying solo, the chicken got to know and trust herself. Life felt full of potentialâ€”romantically and experientially! She was falling in love with FREEDOM.â€ The red chicken drives in her car with the window down, smiling with her feathers blowing in the wind.

â€œFreedom. noun. The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint (Oxford Dictionary). Andâ€¦ The chicken soon learned of CALIFARMIA, a place where freedom and youth were embraced!â€ The red hen flies through the sky holding an oyster with a large planet Earth pearl in her hand. She discovered many chickens there didnâ€™t get married or broody until their 30s or 40s, if at all. And, many pursued passion careers. It was far away, very expensive, and would be difficult on her own, but she took a deep breathâ€¦and migrated there. It was the scariest thing she ever did. But, she found work in a creative field and built a new chosen family. It became HOME.â€ She red hen sunbathes on a beach with two other chickens.

â€œShe needed 2 things: 1) Working toward an unpredictable art career. 2) Spontaneity to be with friends and explore things she enjoyed. Her life afforded her space and independence. She knew it wasnâ€™t in her chicken bones to give these up.â€ The red hen is reading at a podium in a coffee shop, outside of which has a sign advertising an open mic.

â€œThe chicken had many reasons, but this desire for autonomy was partly why she didnâ€™t think sheâ€™d ever want to get married. And, she DEFINITELY never wanted to raise chicks.â€ Legs of someone wearing Converse-like shoes, with a ball and chain attached to their ankle. Next to it is a red no symbol containing eggs wearing diapers.

â€œIt was just never this chickenâ€™s calling to tend to chicks. She never liked playing hen house. And, unlike friends, she hated chick-sitting.â€ An elderly hen says, â€œItâ€™s easier when theyâ€™re yours,â€ as the red hen holds up a thrashing, wailing chick labeled â€œnot hers.â€ â€œAs hens must, she did her part to prevent accidental hatchlings. The fleeting nature of most roosters meant that her chick-free decision was mostly inconsequential.â€ A pack of birth control pills sits next to two condoms labeled â€œCloven.â€

â€œBut othersâ€”even strangersâ€”still grilled her about her future nest.â€ A bunch of speech bubbles clump together, reading, â€œWhen are youâ€” Have you triedâ€” Donâ€™t you likeâ€” Arenâ€™t you able toâ€” Whatâ€™s wrong withâ€” Why wonâ€™t youâ€” When youâ€™re old, who willâ€”â€œ â€œIt left her feeling like a cracked egg. THENâ€¦ just when she turned 30â€¦an unexpected surprise.â€ A kind looking red rooster wearing classes smiles and waves.

â€œThey met under clear intentions. They discovered they had many mutual feelings about the world and life.â€ Two dating profiles from hatch.com - one of the red hen, one of the rooster - both mark â€œdoesnâ€™t want chicks.â€

â€œBoth believed the troubled world could use a few less chickens gobbling things up. Especially to parents who arenâ€™t even broody.â€ The globe, covered in three red no symbols holding a drop of water, a tree, and a whale.

â€œThey clucked at the idea of incubating. Little chicksâ€”albeit cuteâ€”were just not their cob of corn.â€ The red hen and rooster sit on an airplane looking annoyed as screaming kids kick their seats from behind.

â€œTo nest simply wasnâ€™t why they fell in love. They shared similar passions, admired each other, and had fun! They soon became inseparable. Just being themselves, together, made them happy. To save money, they moved in together (a step deemed oddly illicit on the farm).â€ The hen and rooster sit by a campfire; the hen draws while the rooster (â€œsadly, an early birdâ€) plays guitar.

â€œEventually, the chicken did the unthinkable. She married him. One farm milestone achieved!â€ The chicken and rooster exchange rings under an arch, wearing a white wedding dress and a suit.

â€œ16 years later, they are still being themselves, together. They never did hatch any chicks. Theyâ€™ve written their own chicken run.)â€ The chicken and rooster smile and lean their heads out the car window while driving, feathers blowing in the wind.

â€œAnd, as for our aging red hen todayâ€¦ She is still pecking her place as a carpe diem hen! She knows her dreamsâ€”even if risky or unacceptable to othersâ€”are worth not chickening out! Sheâ€™s incubating her own legacy. Because, since she was in the nest, sheâ€™s loved hatching her ART into the world.â€ The red chicken lovingly holds a chocolate egg in her hands. She draws comics in her sketchbook.

â€œShe has become an auntie many, many times, and itâ€™s had its great moments! Thatâ€™s brought PLENTY of chicks into her life.â€ The red chicken is surrounded by loud, playful, and clingy little chicks. She thinks to herself, â€œThis must be what â€˜cooped upâ€™ means!â€ â€œOver the years, theyâ€™ve made her very proud. She hopes to do the same for them.â€ A handmade award ribbon decorated with kidsâ€™ drawings reads, â€œAunt hen, thank you for showing me how to be an artist.â€

â€œSheâ€™s learned no path is easy, but it should be your own. Only YOU know what makes you happy! Art has been a heart-rending, mystifying path of luck and sacrifices (like hatching chicks!). But, it feels like the right one.â€ The chicken stands in a gallery in front of her painting, as a visitor looks at it with admiration. She thinks, â€œWow, he really loves my painting!â€ â€œ@artistjenartâ€

â€œStill feathering her dreams, this Autumn Chickenâ€™s cartooning story resumes at a ripe olâ€™ 48. Better late than never! (Not) the end!â€ The chicken looks at the viewer, shrugging and smiling with her head tilted to the side.

â€œStory of an Autumn Chicken by Jen Grisard Ludwigâ€ A forest covered in autumn leaves, with the silhouette of an anthropomorphic chicken in the background. â€œThe red chicken just turned 48. The harder years are showing in her beak. She canâ€™t help but reflect on how she got hereâ€¦â€ An anthropomorphic red chicken is looking at her reflection in the mirror, touching her eyebags with dismay. â€œSheâ€™s always felt the world putting a crate around her as she became a hen. From biddyhood, the chicken lived under a narrow set of expectations.â€ A young chicken wearing a pink dress holds up a chick doll angrily. â€œItâ€™s not that these rules were ever stated. But, they were loud and clear. It could have been a farm initiation class with visual aidsâ€¦â€ An elderly hen wearing a pink dress points to a poster and says, â€œEvery hen has one purpose.â€ A timeline chart with footnotes explaining each point, labeled with the following text: â€œStandard chicken run for farm* (*metaphor for the Midwest) hens: Chick: Hatch (1. Preferably in a same-breed coop with archaic values.) Biddy: K-12 (2. Learn to be hen-like.â€ Pullet: Work a little (3. As a secretary or cashier; just to afford pretty feathers to find a cockerel.) Marry a mate (4. While young and peckish. Preferably to a fertile rooster who isnâ€™t an artist. Or drug dealer.) Broody: Hatch chicks (5. Preferably many bantam females; hopefully none of which becomes too educated.) Marry off chicks ASAP (6. Preferably to fertile mates who arenâ€™t artists. Or drug dealers.) Become an old hen, hoping for grand chicks. Comic key: Chick = baby Biddy = child Bantam = petite Pullet = adolescent Cockerel = young rooster Broody = adult/breederâ€

â€œThis chicken hasnâ€™t adhered to that fast-track chicken run. She added a few steps. Omitted others. She was a square egg in a round nest.â€ A red no symbol containing a chick doll with a pacifier and a diamond ring with a bouquet of flowers. â€œLetâ€™s start from the very beginning, as stories doâ€¦ â€˜Late hatcherâ€™ might best describe this chicken. (She still tends to run notoriously late.)â€ An intact egg sits next to broken eggs shells thinking, â€œhum dee dumâ€¦â€ â€œAs a young biddy, she lived wild in her imagination, largely left undisturbed by the elders on the farm. But, she was also often alone, growing aware she was of a different feather. Even within her own flock.â€ A young red biddy paints the side of a cardboard box that other white-feathered chicks are playing inside. She sits by a tree reading while other white chicks sit and chat at picnic tables. â€œHer imagination was her best company. At home, she still played with Birdieâ„¢ fashion dolls in middle school. And, at school she did nerdy, un-hen-like things like draw comics and (gasp!) read books.â€ The red chicken sits at her desk drawing comics, while white chickens throw balls of paper at her and one says, â€œEew.â€ â€œOccasionally, salvation came in a teacher or friend who saw these things as attributes. It gave her wings.â€ The red chicken smiles as her friend looks at her comic and laughs from enjoyment, and a teacher looks on at her proudly.

â€œMost of her biddyhood, though, she felt a little lost. A little trapped.â€ The red chicken looks out of a car window at a rainy day outside the barn. â€œTo make matters worse, pullethood came and meant only caring about preening and getting dates. Those were seeds she couldnâ€™t swallow.â€ Two white cheerleader chickens laugh and touch the shoulders of a buff rooster in a football uniform. In the foreground, the red chicken rolls her eyes and sighs. â€œShe knew she was attracted to cockerels back then, but she didnâ€™t get close to any of them.â€ The red hen, wearing a shirt that says â€œnew cocks on the block,â€ looks solemnly as a white chicken calls out to her, â€œFat chick!â€ three times. â€œSo, through high school, she just kept her head down, respected the pecking order, and made her own plans.â€ The red hen smiles as she paints at a canvas next to a stack of textbooks. â€œShe would go to college, study art, and maybe one day become the hen she wishes she could be.â€ A spread of college brochures and applications: Homestead University, Scythe U, Till State University. â€œAway at college, life was a clean canvas. The things she loved to do became tangible skills. Her mind burst with possibilities! She truly began to hatch.â€ The red hen is doing a charcoal figure drawing of a nude white chicken model. Other students are also working on canvases.

â€œBeyond scholastic learning, the chicken also made similar friends and loved sharing an apartment with roommatesâ€”a living style sheâ€™d follow for a decade. Fun managed to peck away at school and work stress. She LOVED throwing parties! She also started getting to know cockerels. Physically and platonically.â€ The red hen is drinking and dancing along with other inebriated college chickens holding red solo cups at a house party. â€œShe was doing well on her own, enjoying her collegiate chickenhood. But, no matter how successful she felt in her life, one nagging theme was like recurring avian flu.â€ The red hen sits in a lecture hall listening to her professor. The red hen looks down solemnly, holding luggage as she is seemingly suffocated by large speech bubbles surrounding her, reading, â€œWhen will you settle down? / Maybe if you lost some feathersâ€¦ / Heâ€™d make beautiful chicks. / That one likes you, date him! / Why canâ€™t you find a rooster? / Donâ€™t let yourself get too old! / You could meet more roosters ifâ€”â€œ â€œShe DID date, but her heart was also focused on other thingsâ€¦ Love of art. Building a resume. Fun new social life. Her dreams!â€ The red hen is happily surrounded by friends eating and drinking at a dinner table. â€œItâ€™s not that she didnâ€™t have any relationships with some broilers* (*Roosters raised for meat.) (In hindsight, she really had fun with the cocks** (**Heh heh) she met in those days.â€ The heads of various roosters with different feather-styles and personalities smile.

â€œShe endured her fair share of heartache, too. She felt completely plucked after a breakup. Sheâ€™d feel like a failure to the world that seemed to revolve around mating.â€ The hen lies in bed looking dejected, with a broken heart floating above her head. â€œBut, time healed the rotten eggs! Flying solo, the chicken got to know and trust herself. Life felt full of potentialâ€”romantically and experientially! She was falling in love with FREEDOM.â€ The red chicken drives in her car with the window down, smiling with her feathers blowing in the wind. â€œFreedom. noun. The power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint (Oxford Dictionary). Andâ€¦ The chicken soon learned of CALIFARMIA, a place where freedom and youth were embraced!â€ The red hen flies through the sky holding an oyster with a large planet Earth pearl in her hand. She discovered many chickens there didnâ€™t get married or broody until their 30s or 40s, if at all. And, many pursued passion careers. It was far away, very expensive, and would be difficult on her own, but she took a deep breathâ€¦and migrated there. It was the scariest thing she ever did. But, she found work in a creative field and built a new chosen family. It became HOME.â€ She red hen sunbathes on a beach with two other chickens.

â€œShe needed 2 things: 1) Working toward an unpredictable art career. 2) Spontaneity to be with friends and explore things she enjoyed. Her life afforded her space and independence. She knew it wasnâ€™t in her chicken bones to give these up.â€ The red hen is reading at a podium in a coffee shop, outside of which has a sign advertising an open mic. â€œThe chicken had many reasons, but this desire for autonomy was partly why she didnâ€™t think sheâ€™d ever want to get married. And, she DEFINITELY never wanted to raise chicks.â€ Legs of someone wearing Converse-like shoes, with a ball and chain attached to their ankle. Next to it is a red no symbol containing eggs wearing diapers. â€œIt was just never this chickenâ€™s calling to tend to chicks. She never liked playing hen house. And, unlike friends, she hated chick-sitting.â€ An elderly hen says, â€œItâ€™s easier when theyâ€™re yours,â€ as the red hen holds up a thrashing, wailing chick labeled â€œnot hers.â€ â€œAs hens must, she did her part to prevent accidental hatchlings. The fleeting nature of most roosters meant that her chick-free decision was mostly inconsequential.â€ A pack of birth control pills sits next to two condoms labeled â€œCloven.â€ â€œBut othersâ€”even strangersâ€”still grilled her about her future nest.â€ A bunch of speech bubbles clump together, reading, â€œWhen are youâ€” Have you triedâ€” Donâ€™t you likeâ€” Arenâ€™t you able toâ€” Whatâ€™s wrong withâ€” Why wonâ€™t youâ€” When youâ€™re old, who willâ€”â€œ â€œIt left her feeling like a cracked egg. THENâ€¦ just when she turned 30â€¦an unexpected surprise.â€ A kind looking red rooster wearing classes smiles and waves.

â€œThey met under clear intentions. They discovered they had many mutual feelings about the world and life.â€ Two dating profiles from hatch.com - one of the red hen, one of the rooster - both mark â€œdoesnâ€™t want chicks.â€ â€œBoth believed the troubled world could use a few less chickens gobbling things up. Especially to parents who arenâ€™t even broody.â€ The globe, covered in three red no symbols holding a drop of water, a tree, and a whale. â€œThey clucked at the idea of incubating. Little chicksâ€”albeit cuteâ€”were just not their cob of corn.â€ The red hen and rooster sit on an airplane looking annoyed as screaming kids kick their seats from behind. â€œTo nest simply wasnâ€™t why they fell in love. They shared similar passions, admired each other, and had fun! They soon became inseparable. Just being themselves, together, made them happy. To save money, they moved in together (a step deemed oddly illicit on the farm).â€ The hen and rooster sit by a campfire; the hen draws while the rooster (â€œsadly, an early birdâ€) plays guitar. â€œEventually, the chicken did the unthinkable. She married him. One farm milestone achieved!â€ The chicken and rooster exchange rings under an arch, wearing a white wedding dress and a suit. â€œ16 years later, they are still being themselves, together. They never did hatch any chicks. Theyâ€™ve written their own chicken run.)â€ The chicken and rooster smile and lean their heads out the car window while driving, feathers blowing in the wind.

â€œAnd, as for our aging red hen todayâ€¦ She is still pecking her place as a carpe diem hen! She knows her dreamsâ€”even if risky or unacceptable to othersâ€”are worth not chickening out! Sheâ€™s incubating her own legacy. Because, since she was in the nest, sheâ€™s loved hatching her ART into the world.â€ The red chicken lovingly holds a chocolate egg in her hands. She draws comics in her sketchbook. â€œShe has become an auntie many, many times, and itâ€™s had its great moments! Thatâ€™s brought PLENTY of chicks into her life.â€ The red chicken is surrounded by loud, playful, and clingy little chicks. She thinks to herself, â€œThis must be what â€˜cooped upâ€™ means!â€ â€œOver the years, theyâ€™ve made her very proud. She hopes to do the same for them.â€ A handmade award ribbon decorated with kidsâ€™ drawings reads, â€œAunt hen, thank you for showing me how to be an artist.â€ â€œSheâ€™s learned no path is easy, but it should be your own. Only YOU know what makes you happy! Art has been a heart-rending, mystifying path of luck and sacrifices (like hatching chicks!). But, it feels like the right one.â€ The chicken stands in a gallery in front of her painting, as a visitor looks at it with admiration. She thinks, â€œWow, he really loves my painting!â€ â€œ@artistjenartâ€ â€œStill feathering her dreams, this Autumn Chickenâ€™s cartooning story resumes at a ripe olâ€™ 48. Better late than never! (Not) the end!â€ The chicken looks at the viewer, shrugging and smiling with her head tilted to the side.

Published On: June 19, 2024

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One thought on “Story of an Autumn Chicken by Jen Grisard Ludwig”

Donna
06/20/2024, 11:43 am
- Reply
Hahahaha. Love this. Raising 6 right now!

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