2-5-09...TALE OF TWO CHICKENS
I was big sister and got my way about a lot of things simply for that fact. Other times I had to talk my Brother in to letting me be first, or to let me have my way. Norman was such a sweet little thing (still is) that it was never hard to do. Norman was and is my best friend. Helped me when he didn't really want to, covered for me at times, and even at a very young age he started giving me advice. Of course I had rocks in my head in the place of logic and didn't usually listen, Usually still don't listen.
There were always settin' hens and baby chicks around which we usually didn't pay much attention to. Just when we stepped in their poop or encountered the wrath of an irate mother hen protecting her brood did we pay much notice.
We were outside one day and noticed a bunch of squaking chickens in the lot circling something and attacking something. Of course we ran out to see. There were two little tiny, just hatched chickens trying to gain protection from their Mama hen. For some reason that ol' hen was not taking care of her babies. All she wanted to do was chomp up the corn Daddy had strewn out for them earlier that morning.
" Oh Look what they're doing Norman, they're gonna' kill them little babies". "Cumon lets get them" he said. We unlocked the gate and went in shooing and hollerin' at the chickens. Poor little things wouldn't have stood a chance if we hadn't rescued them.
There was a black one and a yellow one. Now most girls would want the yellow one. But I wasn't most girls don't ya' see. I wanted the black one and so did Norman.
We ran to the house and told Mama what had happened. "Put those chickens back" Mama told us. "No Mama" we started talking at the same time. We finally got the story out. Mama seemed to know the little ones could not be put back in the pen. She also knew they couldn't just be put down outside somewhere. "Can we have em' Mama? Please Can we"? Mama got a box and put some old paper inside. We took the box in the kitchen and she gave us dry oatmeal and some cornmeal in a 1 lb. coffee can. She told us to feed them every day, give them water, change the paper in the bottom, and we could keep them. "I get the black one, it's mine and the yellow one is yours Norman" I said. "No I want the black one, No I want it". Norman was really stubborn on this one but I finally got my way. Mama told us that when the chickens got big enough to put back in the pen they would just be chickens and belong to no one. Of course we didn't pay any attention to that.
We took care of these little chickens real good and they grew fast. Daddy brought in some corn chops one day and said they needed to go to the pen again as soon as they could eat it. Well, Heck fire if we didn't give them the corn they couldn't eat it right? Daddy caught on to that. The next evening he told us that the chickens were getting wing feathers and would soon fly out of the box and we had to take them to the pen. Couldn't have chickens running around the house. "You two did a good job and I'm proud of you" he said. "Daddy let me mark my chicken so I know which is mine" I said. "You don't have to do that Clydene, I can see that yours is a rooster and Norman's is a hen". "OK Daddy" that satisfied me. But not for long!
Those chickens grew fast. They would still eat out of our hands. I don't know what we thought came next. We were just happy with our chickens. My black chicken was not black now but a tall proud white rooster that strutted around like he owned the place. Norman's hen started cackling one day. She hadn't laid an egg yet but she soon would.
One evening after the chickens went to roost Daddy went out and caught my rooster and wrung his neck for dinner the next day. Daddy and Mama had not realized how attached I was to my rooster. Norman was tired of his hen and had gone on to something better. When I found out what had happened to my rooster I threw a fit. I cried and carried on like crazy. When it was all over my parents told me they were sorry but that's how it is done. "You know Clydene that the roosters are eaten while they are young. The hens are saved for eggs, if we had known it meant so much to you we would have talked to you sooner about it. You picked the black one Clydene and got your way. If you had of let Norman have the black one it would have been different". I was young and got over it fast but I learned something that I have never forgotten. Getting your way doesn't always make you happy. I know now not to want everything just for the sake of beauty but to look at all the sides and think before I speak. That was a valuable lesson that I have never forgotten. I can still picture that fluffy little black chicken and the feisty arrogant rooster he became. I'm still feisty and Norman is still quiet and laid back. We haven't changed much. Mama and Daddy didn't really want us to change. They loved what we were. They raised us with equal love and care. YEP! They were proud of us, and we were proud to have them as parents.
