What drove the chicks to huddle? Cold or loneliness? Living under the light and heat of light bulb, over a cardboard box covered with a newspaper and munching on the grounded feed, they wander here and there. Sitting outside of chamber, the worker watched them.
A few chicks, the weaklings, the one who wanted to have most heat made their way to the bottom of huddle. They preferred to stay at the bottom of the pile, while others pile on top of them. The weaklings felt protected, loved and warm. They even felt that they could even breath collectively. The huddle went up and down, under the warmth of the light bulb.
What’s the best way to die? One wonders. Die from cold of loneliness or die under the pressure and warmth of family.
Next, day the worker remove the dead, rigor-mortised chicks from underneath the huddle and threw them in to the waste bin.
