Occasionally I learn something or hear a tidbit of info that makes me smile to myself. Today’s tidbit was Chicken, Alaska. No, it’s not a dish and it doesn’t involve heating something frozen, which I imagine happens quite a lot in Alaska. Chicken is a town. Full time population of 17 to 37.

So why the heck is it called Chicken? Why not a nice name, like nearby Eagle. Eagle always did better in school, was on the track team and lets face it, Mom liked Eagle better than Chicken. And why can’t Chicken count? 17? 37?
Back in the 1800’s when Alaska was much heavier as it was full of gold, lots of people went up there to deal with this mineral obesity. While gold is nice to spend and shiny, its pretty tough on folks trying to eat it. So the locals turned to the (now state) bird the Ptargna. . . the patarma. . . the Ptarmigan. This cute fella right here.
By closely watching the habits of this plucky little birds, the miners were able to track down fresh supplies of grain, fruit and other bits of nature’s bounty thereby assuring that they were the first of Alaska’s sandal wearing, whole food eating vegan hippie residents. Nah, just kidding. They ate the little suckers.
Eventually 1902 rolled around and they filled the spot to capacity (somewhere between 17 and 37 people?) and had to make it into a town. They decided on the spot to name it after their favorite foodstuff. Problem was, no one really knew how to spell Ptarmigan. Hell, I can’t spell Ptarmigan and every time you see the word Ptarmigan you can rest assured that it’s a cut/paste from Wikipedia. Fearing ridicule from the rest of the world, they put between 34 and 74 pairs of eyes to searching for a good name for the place.
When that failed, I’m sure someone half-jokingly said “let’s just call the damned place Chicken and get back to rolling in our gold.” And that is how Chicken, Alaska came to be a town.
You can visit it today. In fact, if you’re driving from say. . . Hell’s Kitchen in New York to Chicken, Alaska - a trip of 4,099 miles, you can use these directions as provided by Google maps. They’ve got a cafe, a salmon bake and of course, a bar.
Despite my earlier mental picture of the place, the streets ain’t paved with gold. Or Ptarmigan bones, but rather packed gravel. And you’ll have to bring your own phones, electricity, internet and bathrooms as Chicken Alaska has none of these things.
Chicken has been thrust squarely into the modern age however, as they have their own website, hosted out side of the town, of course. Just how squarely into the modern age have they thrusted? Well, they seem to have landed somewhere between Lynx and the Animated Gif era. Regardless, I’ve officially added Chicken, Alaska to my list of places I’d like to see before I die.

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