Friday, August 29, 2008

My daughter... the chicken whisperer.

Polly's family live so far out in the sticks that it is a 45 minute drive (ONE WAY) to take the children to school. I know this for a fact because my friend Barb and I stayed with the children for a month one week while their parents were on a business trip and when you are trying to get three kids fed, teeth brushed, school uniforms on, lunches packed and hair braided Barb and I discovered (out of necessity) that with a slight adjustment to the speed limit it is possible to knock several minutes off of that 45. Barb and I refuse to say exactly how many minutes because we might want to be invited back sometime. All of that has absolutely nothing to do with chickens but I wanted to give you an idea how far out in the sticks my daughter lives and now back to the chicken whisperer. When Matthew turned 5 in March all he wanted for his birthday was a baby chicken. Well, you can't have just one baby chicken so of course he received six tiny yellow puff balls....and they all survived. If you had any idea of the abysmal survival rate for ducks, chickens and bunnies at their house you would be as amazed as I am that they all lived long enough to become big dumb, dirty chickens. Well, five of them are big, dumb, dirty chickens but little Suzanne was different from the very beginning. The other chickens won't have anything to do with Suzanne and that is fine with her because she would rather be with Polly. If Polly sits in the swing then Suzanne is in her lap. If Polly goes to the barn Suzanne is right behind her and Suzanne never misses a walk to the mailbox. Polly has no problem with these outdoor bonding sessions and even looks forward to seeing Suzanne waiting for her by the backdoor. However, on Wednesday Suzanne crossed the line. When Polly came downstairs she was greeted by the sight of 11 year old Sarah in her jammies, sitting at the kitchen table and eating a bowl of Wheaties. Regular morning ritual, right? Yeah...right up until Polly noticed that Sarah was sharing her Wheaties with Suzanne who happened to be sitting in Sarah's lap and resting her little chicken chin right smack on the kitchen table. Folks, now THAT is country.

8 comments:

Grammysammy said...

That would be a picture !

ga.farmwoman said...

And this is not normal?? lol...
Way to go Sarah and Suzanne!
I totally understand this. But I also live far out in the sticks.
I agree with Grammysammy, that would be a picture.

Susie said...

hahahaha!!!!!!! She should have her own show on Animal Planet!

tipper said...

A chicken on the table-Granny would die a 1,000 deaths!! But I think its kinda cute.

Susie said...

Thanks again for the comment on my blog...it made me feel better that someone else felt the same way I do:)

Mental P Mama said...

I want a chicken named Suzanne. She sounds like she's ready for the Letterman Show.

almostgotit said...

Oh, I miss my mother's chickens. 'Course, we lived in a regular old subdivision with no other livestock at any of the other houses. Just ours. Big, dirty chickens is about right. But how we loved them!

Must Read: The Persian Pickle Club by Sandra Dallas. I believe it was Opal who had chickens in her living room....

mtbyrd said...

Suzanne will never be dinner. She might attend dinner though....