A Tale of Two Chickens

a short story of local color

Friday morning we put two nice, big Dominiquer roosters in a crate and hauled 'em to Perryville in the wagon knowing they'd make a fine addition to supper on Saturday night. One we bought off'n the Amish down in Liberty. The other, we hatched from an egg, it had a pretty little rosebud comb.

When we got there, we decided to tie the roosters out on a line, to make their final hours a little happier. Mr. Burns promptly dropped one and it went squawking and flapping off toward the hay field. We all chased and herded and plotted to catch it. We set two fine young men, Jake and Christopher, to chasing after it. They finally managed to drop a heavy wool blanket over its head and slowed it down enough that somebody could grab it up.

The chickens spent an uneventful afternoon pecking at whatever their hearts desired down at the bottom of the hill. You really didn't notice them much at all, unless you happened to be walking that way. Until, that is, one of them got loose. Well, people, the race was on. Both sides of the creek, and up through the field, that rooster zig-zagged all over creation. Now, little did we know, but we had a chicken chaser from way back in our midst. Old Joe-bo, he slipped up behind that chicken and grabbed it up like it wasn't nothin'. There was a cackle or two from old Mr. Gevedon declaring that Joe-bo had thieved a chicken or two in his day. And if Joe-bo hadn't been goin' to do the preachin' on Sunday mornin', we might have had some serious apprehensions on the moral character of that man.

That other rooster figured out how to get loose like the first one. And I'll be durned if we didn't get to watch the fun all over again. No matter how hard they tried, those other fellas, couldn't catch that chicken. And Joe-bo said, "well, I reckon I better help these boys out." That fool has the grace of a ballerina when he catches chickens. The roosters went back in the crate after that. We'd not be chasing chickens all day long.

Well, young mister Owen who is just about six years old, got there sometime about dark. He thought those chickens in a crate was just about the best thing he'd ever seen. We had us a discussion, me and Owen. He thought that the stew pot was a fine place for two such chickens. He enjoyed that idea a great deal, let me tell you. He spent most of his time, telling everybody that came by that we was going to eat the chickens.

Little did we know, but chickens is low-down mean and ugly-spirited. Those damned old roosters crowed every little bit, ALL night long. When I give up and rolled out of bed, somebody had throwed a saddle pad over the crate trying to trick the roosters into going to sleep. Roosters is mean. Nobody had much love for chicken on Saturday mornin'.

Mr. Burns and Mr. Crawford took the roosters and skinned them clean and brought them back to the stew pot. When they was finished boilin', Mrs. Tucker cleaned all the meat off those bones for the chicken supree we was havin' for supper. The bones she brought out of the kitchen, you can't reason much with a live chicken. If you're going to have words with a chicken, you'd just might as well have them with the old boiled-down bones. There was a person or two that wanted to have some words with those roosters.

That chicken sure was good. Maybe it was the crowin' that made it taste better.

Reviews

[...]

. hahahaha ... i wish i was there ... i think i would have laughed and laughed and laughed ... your sense of humour and attention to detail is astonishing ... i particularly enjoyed these parts ...

"You really didn't notice them much at all, unless you happened to be walking that way. Until, that is, one of them got loose. Well, people, the race was on. Both sides of the creek, and up through the field, that rooster zig-zagged all over creation. Now, little did we know, but we had a chicken chaser from way back in our midst. Old Joe-bo, he slipped up behind that chicken and grabbed it up like it wasn't nothin'. There was a cackle or two from old Mr. Gevedon declaring that Joe-bo had thieved a chicken or two in his day. And if Joe-bo hadn't been goin' to do the preachin' on Sunday mornin', we might have had some serious apprehensions on the moral character of that man. "

. and ...

"That other rooster figured out how to get loose like the first one. And I'll be durned if we didn't get to watch the fun all over again. No matter how hard they tried, those other fellas, couldn't catch that chicken. And Joe-bo said, "well, I reckon I better help these boys out." That fool has the grace of a ballerina when he catches chickens."

. and ...

"The bones she brought out of the kitchen, you can't reason much with a live chicken. If you're going to have words with a chicken, you'd just might as well have them with the old boiled-down bones. There was a person or two that wanted to have some words with those roosters.

That chicken sure was good. Maybe it was the crowin' that made it taste better."

. well ... i pretty much ended up quoting almost all of it ... this was an amazing read ... oh, i so wish i was there ... :) ...

[Jen]

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[Gandré]

Emily, you can write such amazing stories from life in countryside. Life is such a wonder, when we look for the details. this tells me that good writing is ‘divine inspiration’ and anything can be this inspiration, and not rational understanding.

[Phibby Venable]

i love this, Emily, very entertaining and fun to read..great dialogue and action.
everyone definitely worked for their supper! very fine.

[Phil Kuhlman]

Fun little story, nice pace, and interesting, and different, subject matter than most stories you'll find out there. Good work.