Well, they were free range and well fed, and there was no point killing them early, so when they got too aggressive they got the neck treatment. They were never going to be able to challenge the alpha cockerel, called Big Ron, anyway - the French would gladly have had him as a rugby mascot.
They were appreciated, but as you can probably tell from the names, that was always going to be the end result. If I'm going to be an omnivore I believe in at least knowing how meat gets to the table, although I don't make a habit of killing anything except wasps and mosquitos.
I would hazard the horse didn't know the name of the rider either. Just two strangers who found themselves in the same place at the same time and regret every moment together.
it never needed a name. it is well-accustomed to the life of the nameless. we will die together here more familiar than your human obsession with identity ever allowed you to be. also my friends call me dave.
Comments
"Never give a name to something you may have to eat."
No?
Until I left Uni and she started calling me 'Boy' again.
They had good roostery lives; until they didn't.
"I'm riding through the desert on a horse named Beans"
Well at least you got Beans to keep you company.
Horse: Don't got one.
Me: cool. Coolcoolcool
*rides 3000 miles in silence*