Due to internet troubles this epilogue has been delayed, so sorry. Parts 1 and 2 of The Chicken Diaries are at these links: Why the Chicken Crossed the Road, Part 1 and Chicken Herding, Part 2. You really should go read them as they are both masterpieces.
(Moon photo used with permission of Rhys Jones, Wikimedia Commons)
You may think it unfair that I would dump a chicken into my father's coop in the middle of the night without asking. You'd be right if my father weren't known around Fooleryland as The Chicken Fairy; he has dumped several chickens into my coop without asking. One of those dumped birds was Chicken Dinner, the rooster who terrorized the hens into a molt from which they haven't recovered. My lovely old Buff Orpington Caramel stayed in the stifling hen house most of the summer, and decided in September to live outside. Chicken Dinner had to go so I could bring Caramel back to her rightful home.
And I did, Thursday night after my Beta Sigma Phi meeting. You didn't know we have Beta Sigma Phi in Fooleryland, did you? Well we do. And I was still wearing a dress but I ditched my heels in favor of Crocs -- wearing heels to carry a chicken down a long gravel driveway in the dark, now that's just silly.
This time I involved my parents, who were expecting me. Dad held the flashlight while I . . . well, I chickened out. I couldn't tell him but I am far too arachnophobic to crouch down (in my dress) to stick my arm into a dark spidery chicken coop to pull a sleepy chicken off her roost, flashlight be damned. "Never mind," I said and ducked out of the coop. "Caramel can stay another night. I don't think I can get her."
"Oh, it's easy," said Dad, who stomped past me into the coop, bent down, swept Caramel from her perch and handed her to me. "See?" The Chicken Fairy still has lessons to teach us.
I headed back down the driveway under the brilliant moon, Caramel pressed to my ribs, resting what should be her chin upon my arm. She was the picture of contentment and trust and I patted her silky feathers all the way home. And she was going home.
Chas came out to hold the flashlight for me while I put Caramel back into her old hen house.
I made him go first in case there were spiders.
(Moon photo used with permission of Rhys Jones, Wikimedia Commons)
You may think it unfair that I would dump a chicken into my father's coop in the middle of the night without asking. You'd be right if my father weren't known around Fooleryland as The Chicken Fairy; he has dumped several chickens into my coop without asking. One of those dumped birds was Chicken Dinner, the rooster who terrorized the hens into a molt from which they haven't recovered. My lovely old Buff Orpington Caramel stayed in the stifling hen house most of the summer, and decided in September to live outside. Chicken Dinner had to go so I could bring Caramel back to her rightful home.
And I did, Thursday night after my Beta Sigma Phi meeting. You didn't know we have Beta Sigma Phi in Fooleryland, did you? Well we do. And I was still wearing a dress but I ditched my heels in favor of Crocs -- wearing heels to carry a chicken down a long gravel driveway in the dark, now that's just silly.
This time I involved my parents, who were expecting me. Dad held the flashlight while I . . . well, I chickened out. I couldn't tell him but I am far too arachnophobic to crouch down (in my dress) to stick my arm into a dark spidery chicken coop to pull a sleepy chicken off her roost, flashlight be damned. "Never mind," I said and ducked out of the coop. "Caramel can stay another night. I don't think I can get her."
"Oh, it's easy," said Dad, who stomped past me into the coop, bent down, swept Caramel from her perch and handed her to me. "See?" The Chicken Fairy still has lessons to teach us.
I headed back down the driveway under the brilliant moon, Caramel pressed to my ribs, resting what should be her chin upon my arm. She was the picture of contentment and trust and I patted her silky feathers all the way home. And she was going home.
Chas came out to hold the flashlight for me while I put Caramel back into her old hen house.
I made him go first in case there were spiders.
Yet another make-me-cry-because-I'm-so-happy-an-animal-has-found-a-life-that-lets-him/her-fulfill-his/her-life-purpose rnieadg Keep em coming!
Posted by: Riinha | February 09, 2013 at 03:59 PM
Ya might find it on old re-runs:
http://sharetv.org/shows/cow_and_chicken
But if the cluckers would prefer a little company/companionship instead of mind numbing TV, one could always read them one of my favorites:
http://www.gocomics.com/2cowsandachicken/2012/10/08
Posted by: Rick's Cafe | October 14, 2012 at 05:37 PM
ha ha ha ha ha -- but what shows do chickens like? Empty Nest isnt on anymore, right?
Posted by: foolery | October 14, 2012 at 01:36 PM
Ya know, if this chicken just had a decent sized TV to watch (perhaps a projection screen) she'd probably never have given you all this trouble!
Posted by: Rick's Cafe | October 14, 2012 at 01:20 PM
Oh MPM, you are SO on top of things. I suppose I won't need a Casting Couch, though...
Posted by: foolery | October 12, 2012 at 01:20 PM
Who's gonna play Caramel in the movie?
Posted by: Mental P Mama | October 12, 2012 at 09:23 AM
Be honest, dear Daryl -- thats pretty much how you see me anyway, right? ; )
Posted by: foolery | October 12, 2012 at 06:55 AM
Glad I could help, Jess, but I dont know why anyone would ever need to spit coffee from her nose.
Posted by: foolery | October 12, 2012 at 06:54 AM
crocs, dress, and a chicken pressed to your heart ... an image which will stay with me forever.. xo
Posted by: daryl | October 12, 2012 at 05:44 AM
"...Caramel pressed to my ribs, resting what should be her chin upon my arm."
I nearly spit coffee from my nose.
Thank you. This is exactly what I needed today.
Posted by: Jess | October 12, 2012 at 03:20 AM