Chickens
In the early spring Daddy would buy
around 25 baby chicks and place them in a homemade brooder.
The brooder was made in two parts. One part was a wire cage
with a wire bottom where the chicks would stay during most
of the daytime. This was where they were fed and could get
fresh air. The other part was a box-like compartment built
onto the cage with a light bulb inside to provide heat.
This was where the chicks would go at night and during rain
or cool weather.
As the chicks grew and started growing a few feathers they
were taken from the brooder and placed in a fenced yard
where they could run around with more freedom. When they
got larger we called them “friers”. This meant that they
were just right for cooking. So we had a lot of fried
chicken.
One time a chick was born with a crooked bill. The top bill
actually crossed over the bottom bill. We didn’t notice
this until it was almost frying size. We named it “Crook
Bill”. I became somewhat attached to it and would notice it
each day. The other chickens were real mean to it,
continually pecking it. I’ve noticed that humans sometimes
mistreat others that have short comings in this same kind
of mean way for no apparent reason. I guess this gives a
special meaning to being chicken.
One day I noticed that Crook Bill was missing. I looked all
over the yard thinking that maybe the mistreatment might
have taken its toll but didn’t find him anywhere. I
mentioned it to my parents but they had no comment.
Shortly after this my grandmother had a birthday dinner for
my granddaddy and everyone brought a dish. As we sat down
to eat I noticed that Mother had brought chicken salad.
Things started falling into place. Crook Bill was missing
and Mother brought chicken salad to the dinner. I caught
Mother’s eye as I looked at the chicken salad. She just
smiled at me but I knew what that meant.
There was no chicken salad for me!