Every summer when I was a kid i'd go to the village where my grandfather used to work. We'd stay at the same people house. They had all kind of animals. But mostly chicken. I was around 5, I believe, at the first time we were there. Or at least I do not remember going there earlier. We probably did. One day the woman of the house told her teenage son to get a chicken for dinner. With an ax in one hand he cut up with one chicken, holding it by her legs he went to a big tree stump on the side of property. With one swing, it was a headless horseman, well, headless chicken. And though there was no horse involved, that chicken ran without the head straight towards me. I got so scared, I was paralyzed, could not move. Thank G-d, chicken did not make it, dropped dead half way.
I was traumatized for life. I am still afraid of birds.
That is my chicken story.