On Counting Chickens

Sometimes he helps me round them up and put them to bed for the night, like last night. I stood down by the coop and the Cabinet Maker shooed them down the hill and around the corner of the barn. Finally the last of them was inside. We made a quick count, latched the door, and went inside for the night.

My grandkids arrived bright and early this morning. They ate the breakfast their mother fixed out on the back porch, got up midway, and ran off into the yard. Naughty Too did not miss the opportunity.

Aubrey came in once to inform me that there was a dead mole in the "yawd." The boys fought viciously over a rope they "found" that belongs to their grandpa. Aubs returned to inform me that one of the chickens was out. "One is on the outside," she said, "All the others are inside the cage and the door is locked." Oops... I guess I'll need to be more careful when counting.Visions of raccoons, foxes, and coyotes flashed through my mind, but so far Hazelnut is still safe.

I dropped The Trio off a Vacation Bible School this morning, ran for chicken feed and gasoline, and returned home to find eight chickens on my back porch. By some stroke of luck, or maybe a miracle, they did not leave any floor decor, and I shooed them back into the grass, which now reminds me of James Whitcomb Riley's poem Little Orphant Annie that Dad used to read. I memorized it in 6th grade, which was really like cheating since Dad had read it to us for years, maybe even since I'd been born, but the kids in my class loved it.

Ltle Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;...