The Chicken Lady

My mother has been a country girl all of her life. I guess chickens have always been a part of her life and our lives as well. I'm sure she had to help prepare game chickens for many a meal while she was growing up. We were spared that nasty chore and were thankful for the local grocery store in that respect.

Gathering eggs was like an Easter egg hunt every day for us. The hens were sneaky about where they would lay eggs. We might find one in the dog house, another one under the wheelbarrow, another one behind a shovel leaning against the smokehouse, etc. It kinda took the fun out of it when they actually laid eggs in the boxes that Mama prepared for that very reason. Of course we didn't dare disturb a hen who was nesting --- get flogged just once and you won't forget it. Same theory applies when messing with the little chicks. A mama hen will protect her little chicks with the same attitude as a mama bear protecting her cubs.

haha -- speaking of getting flogged --- I have to veer away from my Chicken Lady post for just a minute.

Kris was about three years old when she had her first (and last) chicken flogging. A black mama hen had just hatched out her chicks and they were busy scratching in the yard. Kris just knew she could catch one of those little chicks. And so off she went in her uncoordinated manner of walking behind the mama hen and her babies. That mama hen turned and started chasing Kris. Kris tripped and fell face down in the dirt. The hen jumped on Kris' back and flogged the shit out of her!! Of course I was concerned for Kris' well-being and trying not to laugh. I shoo away the mama hen as Kris pulls herself up and through her gulping sobs she says, "Mama, (gulp) that chicken (gulp) flopped me!"

We raised lots of chickens and even had a few favorites along the way. If a coon killed a hen while she was sitting on her nest, my mother would wrap the eggs in a towel and place them on the hot water heater to see if the silly things would hatch. (Our hot water heater was one of those big square ceramic ones.) It was kinda neat to watch Mama as she would help the chicks break through their shells. Then she would buy "scratch" from the feed store and teach the chicks how to eat. Daddy didn't like it when the chickens tried to roost on the patio. Something about chicken shit?!

My mother still raises chickens. The chickens are trained to roost in their coop and Mama latches the gate closed every night to keep them safe from varmits. Every morning, she lets them out so she can cuss at them for tearing up her yard. She collects the eggs by the dozens and distributes them to her family and friends. Mama will be easy to entertain when the day comes. I'll just put her in a lawn chair in a house dress, flip flops, and wide brimmed hat. Give her a bucket of milo and corn. The Chicken Lady can just sit there and feed her chickens all day long.