We rested in the motel in Grand Junction and played a little on the Internet. Since it sounded like freezing fog would be on the ground in Colorado Springs the following day, we thought we’d back-track to a dinosaur museum we noticed as we sped along I-70 past Fruita, Colorado.
Terry passed his lap top to me and for the heck of it, I googled Fruita, CO. And there it was: “Home of Mike the Headless Chicken.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Fruita is where the headless chicken was from!”
I suppose I read about it or watched a PBS special or some episode of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, but I knew about the headless chicken. And here we were, about to go set foot in the town that Mike called home.
Mike lost his head to a kitchen accident in 1945, but typical of a chicken, he refused to die on the spot. Moreover, his wound healed and he continued to refuse to die. His will to live inspired his would-be butcher and kept him out of the stew pot for 18 months. He was fed with an eyedropper and he was a healthy (albeit mindless) rooster until he choked on a grain of corn and succumbed.
And he was from Fruita, Colorado.
Too cool. I think Terry was dubious. He was sure I’d lost my head.
We back-tracked to Fruita on Monday to check out the dinosaur exhibit.
It’s essentially a kid’s exhibit, with mechanical dinosaurs and hands-on exhibits, but you could also peer into the store rooms and watch archeaologists dust off bones. Nobody said an archeaologist’s life is exciting.
Interestingly, right after we returned home, they revealed a “new” dinosaur, the tiniest North American dino: Fruitadens haagarorum (it was discovered near Fruita, Colorado). But we didn’t know that.
The museum is right on I-70, along the banks of the Colorado River. It didn’t cost very much and it was worth our time.
I was still half-way looking for the elusive jackalope.
If that was all I ever saw of Fruita, I would have remained like everyone else who speeds past on I-70. But we decided to go into town and look for a café. And I fell in love with the town.
It’s not a big town and the down-town area has a lot of empty business space. Mountain biking is big business in Fruita. We walked down the main drag (E. Aspen Ave) three blocks east, ending at the court house. That is where they have one of the best Veteran’s Memorials I have had the pleasure of seeing. There’s a 105 Howitzer (circa 1942) displayed, a flag pole and series of marble plaques listing all the Fruita war dead beginning with the Civil War through Desert Storm (and including the Spanish-American War).
Um, sure. You ride that bike, Terry!
A haunted house. Which is another reason to love Fruita. I could live in that house.
Back to Camilla’s Kaffe where we had biscuits and gravy and coffee. Local art was displayed all over the café and everyone was friendly. Next to Camilla’s is a bike shop, Over the Edge Sports (one of two shops that specialize in mountain bikes – they have a
Fat Tire Festival and they don’t just mean beer, even though New Belgium Brewery is the main sponsor. They mean mountain bikes).
And across the street from Over The Edge Sports, in front of a little coffee shop, is this:
No, it is not an unfinished sculpture or even a vandalized one.
Yes, that recycled art facsimile of a Wyandote rooster is exactly what I thought it was.
Yes, I think I could live in Fruita, Colorado. In the couple hours we were there, it just felt like “home.”
I could just sit down and sip a nice vanilla latté (extra hot) and watch life go by from this bench in Fruita.
Some places just get to you (and not just because they are mindless). Maybe it is Mike’s spirit and his tenacious hold on life for the 18 months that he lived without a head.
In any case, if you ever happen to fly along I-70 in the vicinity of Fruita, CO, take the time to drop into the town and patronize the local businesses. It’s a town worth visiting.
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Jaci Dawn 