| South of Citrus Heights, atop the bluffs overlooking the winding American River, sits the pleasant little village of Fair Oaks. At first glance, it seems a normal enough place, if a bit artsy and quaint. Mostly used bookstores, coffee shops, and art galleries. But walk around a bit. You'll very soon find that the entire town is overrun by... chickens. Whole flocks, running free. The citizens encourage them - are even proud of them. The chickens are enticed by liberal seed feeds, immortalized in public works of art, and are even popularized on tee-shirts. Not a minute goes by that you don't hear the crow of a rooster from a neighboring stoop or the next block. My big question remains: What happens to all those eggs? |