Cullen Camic first noticed the chicken carcasses on Friday morning when a AAA repairman was inspecting his car battery.

Something — a thick, wet line of white and pink — glistening in the soft morning sun caught his eye. It stretched several blocks of Bond Street in the Boerum Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, past century-old brick townhomes, a Citi Bike rack and a corner bodega. And then there was the sound.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be in a war,” Mr. Camic said, “but it was just crunching of bones.”

Every car and truck that pushed through the scattered parts unleashed a series of mini pops, snaps and cracks. Chicken was flattened and flung. There were thighs and wings, and pieces so big that Mr. Camic thought they had to be from turkeys.

“It was how you’d imagine that much meat being crushed by a 10-ton truck,” said Mr. Camic, 35. “It was amazing.”