In Takoma Park, where the politics have long been left of left, a bronze statue in the town square memorializes a beloved rooster whose free-roaming ways "brought joy into our urban lives," the plaque reads.

These days, when residents look at Roscoe the Rooster, not all of them are dabbing their eyes. Some are thinking of dinner.

On the same block where Roscoe was killed in 1999 in a hit-and-run attack by a sport-utility vehicle, the Sunday farmers market now offers lamb sausages, veal chops and eggs. Down the street, the food co-op -- breaking with a 20-year tradition -- is peddling flesh, too. During last summer's Fourth of July parade, a float of co-op supporters held up signs declaring, "No Drumsticks, No Peace."

The embrace of food-with-a-face in this peace-rallying, tree-hugging, self-declared nuclear-free zone has become so enthusiastic that some residents wonder whether a counter-counter-revolution is afoot.

Jennifer Gillispie, 60, said she never imagined that meat consumption would become so conspicuous -- and that she would be one of the guilty ones.

The Takoma Park yoga teacher once told her most devoted students to become vegetarians. Now, she suggests meat eating as a path to karma.

Of her salad days, Gillispie said, "I was forcing my own being to do something that, clearly, that being was saying wasn't working."

Gillispie, who had been a vegetarian for more than 10 years, said she was feeling weak and unmotivated a couple of years ago and didn't know why. When two formerly vegetarian friends suggested a new diet, she figured she had nothing to lose. She went to Whole Foods, ordered half a roasted chicken and found a table.

"I said a blessing, and I asked forgiveness for the chicken. I took one bite -- and it was like all my cells exploded, 'Yes!' " Gillispie recalled. "I ate the whole thing, bones and all. I couldn't get it into my mouth fast enough. People were staring."

Gillispie knows that some of her fellow yogis think she's gone crazy. She counters that it's time for Takoma Park residents to include meat eating in their definition of diversity and inclusiveness.

"It shouldn't be an option between vegetarianism and sick, antibiotic-filled meat," she said. "We could start to be part of the revolution for lovingly and humanely raised and culled meat."

But other residents are asking whether anything is sacred here anymore.

"There could be a chipping away at the liberal, alternative soul of Takoma Park," said Mike Tidwell, 43, an environmental activist. "I would not be surprised if we started seeing a bunch of hybrid SUVs and organic barbecue parties."

These changes in what residents lovingly call the People's Republic of Takoma Park come as the rest of the country appears to be warming to traditional Takoma values.

Soy milk and tofu are widely available at Safeway and Giant. The Atkins diet craze is dying down. Burger King touts a veggie burger.

All of which is exactly why the Takoma Park food co-op needed to start selling meat, said manager Bob Atwood.

Atwood said organic and natural foods are available at so many places now that people would rather do one-stop shopping at a store with a variety of products, some of which happen to be meat. The co-op competes with 14 Whole Foods Markets in the Washington region, one less than two miles away.

Last spring, 71 percent of co-op members voted against having "vegetarian" imbedded in the store's mission statement. Shortly afterward, whole-wheat breaded chicken patties arrived on store shelves. In a concession to the minority, the flesh is confined to two sections of the freezer, and signs warn that there is "all natural, organic meat in this area."

"It was more important for us to stay in business than us staying vegetarian," Atwood said. "They realized that if we had to do it, it would help us be stronger in the community."

Atwood said that after the vote, one woman chased him down a store aisle, yelling, "How could you?"

Even so, co-op membership has increased in the past year by 300 people, to 3,500 -- an all-time high.

At the Sunday farmers market, Forrest Pritchard of Smith Meadows Farms was shunned by locals when he first brought his grass-fed beef and free-range eggs three years ago. The Takoma Voice newspaper was flooded with angry letters to the editor. Some called him a terrorist.

Now, the shy, mannerly farmer from Berryville, Va., is a member of the market's board of directors. Two other vendors now sell sausage tarts and eggs. The letters to the editor have stopped.

Still, the meat market here is a bit different than elsewhere in the region. The Pritchard family says Takoma Park is the only place where they don't get questions like, "What's free-range? Does that mean you're giving it away?"

Instead, shopper Rolf Reichle had other concerns about the sirloin he ordered.

"I probably have to put some salt on it?" asked the 36-year-old NASA scientist. "I thaw it first, right?"

After nearly 14 years of plant food, Reichle started back with ground beef a few months ago. He said he was "graduating" to steaks.

Reichle explained that his vegetarian wife, pregnant with twins and plagued with health problems, was urged by her doctor to change her diet. Reichle didn't want to bother preparing meat dishes for her and tofu for himself.

"The whole vegetarian thing just fell by the wayside," shrugged Reichle, busy with his infant boys. "It's a whole new world."

It's unclear whether these born-again carnivores are on the edge of a trend or simply rejoining the rest of the world.

Stephen Havas, an epidemiology professor at the University of Maryland Medical School, suggested that former vegetarians who say they feel healthier after eating meat are going through something psychological. He wants to know who their doctors are.

"Physicians knowledgeable about nutrition literature know that not eating meat is healthier than eating meat," said Havas, an omnivore.

But Christine Gerbstadt, a physician and spokeswoman for the American Dietetic Association, said the vegetarian dropouts might be on to something. The registered dietitian and former vegetarian said some people might need more protein as they age and their metabolism slows. Meat eating might work better for certain body types.

Gerbstadt, who studied in Berkeley, Calif. -- another enclave where many residents list "activist" as their occupation -- also had a very unscientific theory on the situation.

"I was a vegetarian when I was at Berkeley for two years. Of course I was -- who there wasn't? It took a lot more creativity then," said Gerbstadt, 48. "Sometimes, you want to do something to make a difference or make a statement.

"If the rest of the world is vegetarian, then they're going to try to do something different or say, 'Let's not make such a big deal out of it anymore.' "

Certainly, Takoma Park massage therapist Leslie Sapp isn't preparing meat in a way that someone in Middle America might recognize.

Before she starts cooking dinner, the wispy 46-year-old, who turned to goat bone broth and fish to help her chronic fatigue, says a prayer and humbles herself before the animal, "who has given its life so we may live."

She does, however, have a confession: "It's delicious."