I’ve been pretty serious lately, so I think it’s time for some silliness. I was just out in the chicken coop collecting the day’s eggs, and it hit me that hens are the epitome of brainless inanity. Therefore, today’s posting is about chickens. More precisely, it is a somewhat (but not very) fictionalized story about how we got our very first chicken, Bawky. The year was 1986….
I was scraping cereal off the last of the morning’s dishes to the accompaniment of Bert and Ernie, when the doorbell rang. Dropping the bowl back into the soapy water, I grabbed a tattered dishrag to dry my hands. The sound of running feet heralded the breathless arrival of two little girls, curious to see who was at the door. Chubby hands gripped my knees. We opened the door together. Continue reading