A Foul Fowl Affair

This evening, I sat out on the front step cleaning, trimming, and sorting the shallots with a cat purring on my lap and the ever curious geese and ducks for companions. After the heat and humidity of the day, the cool evening air was a delight.

Dusk had already settled in when I realized that the new chicks were still outside. Now here is where having strong, wiry sons would come in handy. But unfortunately they were all out in town with Papa. So I went to the pen and looked at the 18 chicks. This can't be too hard. All but three were eager to be "caught", and this I did, placing them into the old rabbit cage for transport to the barn. What I didn't count on was how HEAVY 18 1-month old chicks would be. Not only were they heavy, but somehow the birds sensed that they were in the wrong hands, and so they started to shift back and forth inside the cage.

I was very proud of myself when I reached the the ladder to the loft. I looked at the ladder, and I looked at the cage. I looked at the ladder again...It was an old apple tree ladder, not the kind that gives one a sense of security. I placed the cage onto the table near the ladder and stepped gingerly on the first "rung". Next one (Oh, Dear Lord, don't let it break!), and the next. Then I hauled up the birds in the cage. What a racket they made! I managed to push the cage through the opening in the loft and opened the cage door. Not a chick moved. I shook the cage. Then I tipped it. The chicks hung on inside the cage for dear life. All right they can stay in there if they like. I would just have to get their food and water.

Again I realized that this was a job for those made of sterner stuff, and steadier legs and arms. But it was hot in that loft, and the chicks needed water. Carefully I climbed the rickety ladder while trying to keep the waterer level. I only succeeded in spilling half of the water...down the front of me. I raised the waterer to the level of the loft floor only to find that the weight of the ladder had pressed against the screen covering the opening. So back down the ladder I went spilling more water down my shirt. Remove the screen, climb the ladder again, spill more water. I was really breathing hard at this point. Finally, victory as I lifted the waterer above my shoulders and onto the loft floor. And there it sat, water spilling over the rim, out the opening, and yes, down the front of me. (I won't write here what I said at this point. Just know that it didn't have to do with water dams.)

What I didn't realize was that I had an audience the whole time. There below the ladder, looking up at me with the most astonished (I really don't know how else to describe it)looks on their faces were the geese and ducks. I can only imagine what they must have been thinking. I was covered in chicken poop from my shoulders down to my knees, and I know I didn't smell very good either. When I got to the ground I said in my brightest voice, "Hi, guys!" And with that they promptly turned tail and ran from the barn. Oh well.

On the bright side, when I went out to get the chick food, I startled a young deer that had wandered under the old apple tree. With a snort he began to bound away, but then stopped. I began to sing very softly and he took a few steps toward me. He was beautiful and stately in stature, and I realized I had been given a gift. Suddenly he sniffed the air and turning he walked back into the woods. Did I detect a slight air of disgust as he walked away? I think he must have smelled the chicken poop.