At 4:15 PM. on Monday, March 23rd, 1998, I was born in the maternity ward of Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminister, B.C. 

Exactly twenty-six years later, on the afternoon of March 23rd, 2024, 35 spectators—and a dog named Maya—stood in anticipation in the park at Trent Severn Waterway Lock 22, all there to witness a man eat two entire rotisserie chickens. 

Heroically knighted as the “Chicken Man” by observers, the Trent student—only wishing to be referred to as “Webby” in correspondence with Arthur—was the subject of a provocative postering campaign that caught the attention of fellow students and community members the week prior. 

Seen around Trent campus and select parts of Peterborough, the poster is simple yet effective: it features two black and white photos of the Chicken Man eating a rotisserie chicken, headlined by “Come Watch THIS Man Eat 2 Whole Rotisserie Chickens!” while providing not only the date and time of the event, but the exact coordinates of the event’s location (44.364631, -78.290285). 

The posters also drew a significant amount of notice online, with a picture of the poster circulating on r/Peterborough, much to the excitement of local residents. 

“Finally some culture in this town,” one user commented.

After inputting the aforementioned coordinates into Google Maps on Saturday afternoon, I drove to the park at Nassau Mills and received a hero’s welcome upon my arrival and subsequent disclosure that I was indeed with Arthur. The crowd—mostly Trent students—were elated that their beloved newspaper had also come to bear witness to a man eating two whole rotisserie chickens. 

At the centre of the crowd’s semicircle was the Chicken Man himself, sitting quietly in a camping chair at a grey folding table with two rotisserie chickens in front of him. 

As promised, the endeavour began exactly at 3 PM, where Webby began to devour his first chicken, tearing into the breast with his bare hands. He was unhurried in this endeavour, methodically consuming each section while sipping water between bites. 

Sat to his right was his fellow organizer, a young bespectacled man acting as a moral supporter and a hydration facilitator, frequently pouring water from a blue Nalgene bottle into Webby’s cup. 

Neither the Chicken Man nor his companion seldom spoke during his actual eating of the chicken, which allowed for spectators to provide play-by-play commentary, primarily lead by history student Chase Smits.

“This is the best Saturday on record,” Smits said. “Put that on the record.” 

As the first bird was consumed, the air was filled with the tangy scent of President’s Choice Barbecue Seasoned Whole Chicken, prompting attendees standing down-wind to invite each other out to Swiss Chalet for post-event rotisserie chicken.

“I feel so connected at this moment,” an international student quipped. “This is definitely a Canadian core experience.” 

The Chicken Man worked through his first serving of poultry in almost fifteen minutes, but slowed down significantly for ten minutes thereafter, stretching out and maintaining a slow  chew until he finished the first bird at 3:25 PM.

At halftime, Webby enjoyed a quick smoke break, pulling a joint out of his coat and finally breaking his silence to answer questions the crowd posed to him. A spectator asked if he was worried about the temperature of the second chicken, as it had been sitting out in the cold for 25 minutes. 

“I’m not concerned,” Webby replied, taking another hit of his joint. 

He also answered honestly about the preparation for this event, citing how he had never done this before and this was indeed his first attempt at eating two entire chickens.

Finishing his break, the Chicken Man immediately got to work on his second chicken, yet his pace began to falter, his body seemingly catching up to the reality of eating an entire rotisserie chicken. At this point, Maya, the only dog in attendance, took an unwavering interest in the chicken, begging at the opposite end of Webby’s table.

At around 3:35 PM, the crowd started to disperse as Webby’s consumption declined rapidly: his sips of water became more frequent, and chewing every piece of fowl became more laborious. No matter how many times he wiped his hands, they still remained greasy. 

As seagulls scouted out the scene before me, the inevitable became a reality. Despite encouragement from onlookers, Webby pushed away his second container of chicken and declared at 3:43 PM. that he would not be able to finish it.  

Only managing to eat a quarter of his second bird, the Chicken Man gave away the rest of the chicken to the de-facto commentator of the day Chase Smits, who had sat himself on the muddy ground to take up the mantle.

“I love free food,” Smits commented to Arthur through a mouthful of chicken, throwing a piece to Maya the dog. 

As Smits finished the rest of the chicken, Arthur caught up with Webby in a brief post-chicken interview. He had very little to add, as his actions spoke for themselves.

When asked why he attempted this endeavour, the Chicken Man only had this to say: “I was hungry.”

In preparation for the event, Webby had just fasted for the morning, but felt “very full” after eating the meat of 1.25 chickens. After speaking to Webby, I shook his hand despite its greasy sheen, thanking him for his attempt. 

Despite its sordid conclusion, onlookers like Trent student Charles Cumberland came away from what occurred on this afternoon optimistic.

“I’m a little disappointed, but it was still a great, great, great event.” Cumberland told Arthur.

Having heard about the event from a fellow student, he told Arthur that the endeavour felt like it only lasted five minutes because of its energetic atmosphere. 

“The vibe with everybody here is amazing, with everybody cheering him on,” Cumberland said. “No real doubters in the crowd, and it was great to meet some new people.”

As everyone left to carry on with their day, one of the organizers, who wished to remain anonymous, gave Arthur some insight as to the planning and lead-up to the event. He described a complicated and meticulous process behind designing the notorious poster.

“I went on Microsoft Word and I opened up a regular default template,” he told Arthur. “I put two photos of him on there, the title and the location and the date…it was very good.”

When asked about the location of the chicken-eating, the organizer did not want it to be on Trent’s Symons campus. “I don’t like spending time on campus,” he chuckled. 

After thanking spectators for their attendance and wishing me a happy birthday, I left Webby and his friend to their devices.

To break professional voice here, this was indisputably the most chaotic event I have ever covered during my time as staff at Arthur. Despite not finishing the second chicken as advertised and having a sloppy, half-assed approach that would eventually lend itself to disappointment, I salute you, Chicken Man. You ate over a kilogram of barbecue chicken with your bare hands and did not immediately break out into meat sweats. 

I bid you well on your future endeavours with the toilet, because you consumed 3,037 mg of sodium in under forty five minutes. Godspeed, Webby.

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Correction: This article has been updated on March 28th to reflect Chase Smits' correct academic major.