Fluffy, the Species Confused Chicken

My little sisters, Connie and Marilyn, raised their baby chick, Fluffy, in a cloth-lined box in the living room. He spent his nights in their room, going to sleep as soon as they covered his sweet, little head. He woke them early in the morning, peeping around looking for them. Cleaning up after him wasn’t really a big problem while he was a tiny chick. Continue reading

Killer Tomatoes

Mama kept me close her side when we were home alone. If she did let me go in the yard on my own, I had to be close enough to come running in an instant when she called. The only exception was a trip to the toilet.  Since it wasn’t polite to answer from the toilet, I kept quiet knowing, she’d be watching for me to come out before mounting a search.  She Continue reading

Hey! Little Gal!

Shirley hat

Enjoy this story from my mother’s memory bank:

Mama gave me the twin chicks hatched from a double-yoked egg since they were odd, slow and probably wouldn’t have made it on their own. I coddled those two from the first.  They’d imprinted on me and followed me everywhere. It is likely they had chromosome damage since they developed into normal looking roosters while retaining their “chick” Continue reading

Pot Rack and the Turkey From Hell

Daddy was a nut about poultry.  He made regular patrols within the local area, and if he detected poultry not in his collection, he couldn’t rest until he had one-upped whomever had put him in a “fowl mood. His enthusiasm didn’t last long enough to build a proper poultry yard, so the coyotes inevitably got whichever of the unfortunate fowl didn’t roost in Continue reading

Incredibly Awful Birthday Party

The Awfuls were awesome. Even though their name was Alston, the neighborhood mothers thought Awful was a better fit. We all envied them as they roamed the neighborhood with a freedom we only imagined. They weren’t mean; they just got to do exactly as they pleased. They were everywhere, playing on the railroad track, staying out Continue reading

Pass the Chicken Please or Fowl Friends

We went places and saw people that most people would never encounter.  Daddy had heard of somebody who lived back in the woods about four miles off Tobacco Road who had something he might be interested in buying.  He had to check it out, driving forever down muddy roads that looked like they might disappear into nothing.  Finally we got back to Mr. Tucker’s shack.  Mr. Tucker was wearing overalls and nothing else.  Continue reading

Don’t Be Such a Chicken!

Being a farm kid is not for sissies and cowards. The dark side of the chicken experience is slaughtering, plucking, cleaning, and preparing chickens for the pot.  I watched as Mother transformed into a slobbering beast as she towered over the caged chickens, snagging her victim by the leg with a twisted coat-hanger, ringing its neck and releasing it for its last run.  We crowded by, horribly thrilled by what we knew was coming.  It was scarier than ”The Night of the Living Dead”,  as the chicken flapping its wings, Continue reading