Twisting the metal handle, I unlocked the coop and swung the door open. The bustling bodies of the no-longer-baby chicks hurried toward me, nudging me inside before I quickly shut the door behind me.
The adult hens stood nearby like sharks, and not knowing whether they’d attack or remain peaceful, put me on edge.
The first thing I noticed was their tail feathers. Just days ago there were barely any. Now they fanned out behind them. Their bodies, too, had stretched, an inch or two taller, ganglier than before, looking to me like prehistoric creatures still evolving.
Like I always do, I counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Where are seven and eight?
The two black-and-yellow chicks.
Gone.
Missing.
Dead?
I searched for feathers. Signs of a struggle. A place something might have gotten in.
Nothing.
I’m still unsatisfied.
Down the hallway I hear two voices: Grandma and Evelyn.
They’ve already read their bedtime book together, so this is bonus time. It’s not the usual attempt to keep the adults talking so bedtime gets pushed back. It’s simply two people talking over one another, excited to share and to be together.
They do this on FaceTime too.
An hour of nonstop conversation about anything and everything under the sun.
I don’t know what I’m needing tonight.
A massage that lasts until further notice sounds pretty nice.
Unrelated: our baby cat managed to get herself stuck high in a tree for the better part of the morning.
Eventually she jumped down.
No injuries.
Within minutes she was back to chasing the chickens.
Love, Jaclynn
Leave a Reply