His late head is quite dead
You wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it, then probably you still wouldn’t
Mike died in the night, his choking sounds loud enough to wake the rest of the room. Just shy of his second birthday, it had been, by any standards, a heroic run. Fitting that – much like his life – his death was a freak accident. Both had taken Lloyd Olsen by surprise, and ultimately the man had no one to blame but himself for either. He and his wife, Clara, had left their tools at work, and there was nothing left to do but witness his final moments.
Olsen lied about the incident for years. When pressed, he’d insinuate that Mike had been sold off for some hefty, undisclosed sum. Shortly before his own death, he finally confessed to the incident.
"It wasn't until, well, a few years before he died that he finally admitted to me one night that it died on him,” his great-grandson, Troy Waters, told the media decades later. “I think he didn't ever want to admit he screwed up and let the proverbial goose that lays golden eggs die on him."
No one can say for certain what became of Mike after his untimely death in Phoenix that night in mid-March. Waters speculated that the body was left in the Arizona desert for the coyotes to deal with.
It was a sad, quiet fate for a national star. A year-and-a-half prior, Mike made headlines at the tender age of six months. Life seemed especially smitten with him, devoting multiple pages and several big, black and white photos the juvenile rooster. “He walks, flaps his wings, preens his feathers, and when he hears other roosters crow, even answers with a few croaky gurgles,” the magazine explains. “Only major function Mike has lost is sight.”
A nearly full-page image of led off the October “Science” section. Mike poses proudly on a table. “His late head (right foreground),” the captions reads, noting the object sitting nearby, “is quite dead.” Olsen had held onto what remained of the rooster’s face and beak for posterity – and photo shoots.
When the issue ran, it had been a little over a month since the “lively fowl with a good sense of balance” parted ways with his head. The white Wyandotte rooster was one of dozens chosen for slaughter at the Fruita, Colorado farm on September 10th. Mike had specifically been destined for the farmers’ supper plates. Olsen brought the hatchet down, swiftly decapitating the rooster. It was not entirely uncommon for the birds to twitch, flail, flap or even run after death. Even without their brains, neurons still fire, sending muscles message to flee from danger entirely too late.
But this was something altogether different. Upon losing his head, Mike ran from the farmer’s hatchet and never looked back. A befuddled Olsen scooped up the freshly decapitated rooster, placing him inside an apple crate on the couple’s porch for the night. The farmer checked the box the following morning to find Mike still alive and (relatively) well.
Olsen dumped the remainder of the dead chickens in the wagon and rode into town, with a lively and curious Mike in tow. The farmer supplied himself with free drinks betting the town folk he could produce a headless rooster. Stories of the spectacle grabbed the attention of a reporter from the local paper, who later visited the farm, finding him living a reasonably normal existence. Life later noted that his fellow chickens treated Mike just the same as any other, though he “has shown no tendency to mate.” Olsen had begun feeding the rooster water and milk via eyedropper, along with small pieces of corn and worms, inserted directly into his open esophagus.
Two weeks after the rooster’s initial ride into town, Salt Lake City-based sideshow promoter, Hope Wade, made the 300-mile journey to Fruita. The struggling farmers recognized the opportunity. It was once-in-a-lifetime. Wade christened the rooster “Miracle Mike the Headless Chicken,” before taking him to the University of Utah for a checkup.
The scientists determined that Olsen’s hatchet had narrowly missed the rooster’s jugular, leaving behind the brainstem and one ear behind in the process. A secondary balancing organ located in the pelvis was keeping him upright. After the examination, the school’s researchers may have performed their own grisly experiments on additional chickens in hopes of a similar outcome.
“You wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it, then probably you still wouldn’t,” The Salt Lake City Tribune announced in an article titled ‘Beheaded Chicken Calmly Lives On.’
The Olsens and Wade toured the country on the sideshow circuit, charging $0.25 a pop to view Miracle Mike. A $10,000 price tag was placed on the headless chicken at the height of its popularity. He would go on to live a full 18 months before discovering the kernel of corn that would end his life that fateful March night in Phoenix.
[Photos of Mike here, if you’re so inclined.]
Sources:
Beheaded Chicken Calmly Lives On https://www.newspapers.com/clip/23633791/beheaded-chicken-calmly-lives-on/
Headless Rooster https://books.google.com/books?id=pksEAAAAMBAJ&lpg=PA53&dq=mike%20headless%20chicken&pg=PA53#v=onepage&q=headless%20chicken&f=false
The chicken that lived for 18 months without a head https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-34198390