Read Online Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer by Kelly Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Jones
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chicken before Dad comes back and Mom remembers what she agreed to. (Don’t worry, I’ll leave a note reminding her where I went.) Only, I’m nervous. What if Ms. Griegson turns up there too? What if these people don’t think I look responsible enough? I guess this is just another part of keeping chickens.
Love,
Sophie
June 23, 2014
Mariposa García González
Land of the Dead
Querida Abuelita,
I guess I never really was afraid of a chicken before. I mean, I didn’t want to get pecked, and Henrietta made me a little nervous a few times when she looked at me too long, but I’m bigger than she is, and I think I’d be hard for her to lift. But this newest chicken…Well, I think it’s better if you don’t tell Mom or Dad about her superpowers until I find out more.
I sort of thought it was just going to be another chicken with regular superpowers when Gregory called. I was happy that this chicken would be back with the rest of her flock; I didn’t want her to be lonely. I thought I’d just walk over there, with the dog crate in the old red wagon, and bring her back, and everything would be as normal as it ever is around here.
When I got to the farm, a white dog came rushing out to the gate and barked and barked, but I hollered I was here for the chicken, and didn’t open the gate, and finally a skinny blond lady came out. She looked at me for a long time, and I got more and more nervous. You know I’m pretty shy around people I don’t know. It’s like all my words get clogged up in my throat, even when it’s important and I know I have to say something. “Gregory said you were coming,” she said, finally. She grabbed the dog’s collar, opened the gate, and told me to go around the back of the barn. Then she dragged the dog inside.
I was feeling a little shaky, the way you do when you’re not sure if someone’s mad at you, or why they’d be mad when you haven’t even met them before. But things weren’t going to get any better standing around in her yard. So I dragged that rattling old wagon around the back of the barn.
There was a boy sitting there, about my age. He was staring at a chicken coop across the yard, leaning his chin against his knees, and he looked scared and sad. Then he saw me and scowled, and I stopped feeling sorry for him, even if his mom didn’t seem very nice.
I’ve never been the new kid before. But I figured it wasn’t going to get any easier without practice. “I’m Sophie Brown,” I said. “I’m here to pick up Great-Uncle Jim’s chicken. Thanks for taking care of her.”
He didn’t move, just kept scowling.
“Gregory called to say I should come get her?” I said. I didn’t scowl back, even though I wanted to.
“You know she’s weird?” he said very quietly.
“I know she’s unusual,” I snapped. Then I was horrified at what I’d said. But he didn’t ask any questions, just nodded, got up, and led me around the back of the coop.
There were two small pens there, and both of them had big bloody pieces of burlap inside. The burlap didn’t cover all the blood and mess either. Abuelita, I know a farm is a cycle of life and death, and I know where meat comes from. I know that bad things happen to animals sometimes. But it was really horrible, with bits of bloody meat and bone and feathers all over. I looked at it, and then I grabbed the kid’s arm and started yelling at him. “Why did you kill her? What did she ever do to you?”
His face got all crumpled and he looked like he was going to cry. “A raccoon got Rocky this morning.”
It took a few seconds for the words to start making sense. I dropped his arm. “Who named her Rocky?”
“Rocky’s a rooster, not a hen. I raised him from a chick.” He looked down at the blood in one of the pens. “The raccoon’s over there.” He pointed inside.
I looked closer. There was a stone raccoon inside the chicken pen with a messy chicken leg in its paws. I stared at it. Who would want to carve such a
Love,
Sophie
June 23, 2014
Mariposa García González
Land of the Dead
Querida Abuelita,
I guess I never really was afraid of a chicken before. I mean, I didn’t want to get pecked, and Henrietta made me a little nervous a few times when she looked at me too long, but I’m bigger than she is, and I think I’d be hard for her to lift. But this newest chicken…Well, I think it’s better if you don’t tell Mom or Dad about her superpowers until I find out more.
I sort of thought it was just going to be another chicken with regular superpowers when Gregory called. I was happy that this chicken would be back with the rest of her flock; I didn’t want her to be lonely. I thought I’d just walk over there, with the dog crate in the old red wagon, and bring her back, and everything would be as normal as it ever is around here.
When I got to the farm, a white dog came rushing out to the gate and barked and barked, but I hollered I was here for the chicken, and didn’t open the gate, and finally a skinny blond lady came out. She looked at me for a long time, and I got more and more nervous. You know I’m pretty shy around people I don’t know. It’s like all my words get clogged up in my throat, even when it’s important and I know I have to say something. “Gregory said you were coming,” she said, finally. She grabbed the dog’s collar, opened the gate, and told me to go around the back of the barn. Then she dragged the dog inside.
I was feeling a little shaky, the way you do when you’re not sure if someone’s mad at you, or why they’d be mad when you haven’t even met them before. But things weren’t going to get any better standing around in her yard. So I dragged that rattling old wagon around the back of the barn.
There was a boy sitting there, about my age. He was staring at a chicken coop across the yard, leaning his chin against his knees, and he looked scared and sad. Then he saw me and scowled, and I stopped feeling sorry for him, even if his mom didn’t seem very nice.
I’ve never been the new kid before. But I figured it wasn’t going to get any easier without practice. “I’m Sophie Brown,” I said. “I’m here to pick up Great-Uncle Jim’s chicken. Thanks for taking care of her.”
He didn’t move, just kept scowling.
“Gregory called to say I should come get her?” I said. I didn’t scowl back, even though I wanted to.
“You know she’s weird?” he said very quietly.
“I know she’s unusual,” I snapped. Then I was horrified at what I’d said. But he didn’t ask any questions, just nodded, got up, and led me around the back of the coop.
There were two small pens there, and both of them had big bloody pieces of burlap inside. The burlap didn’t cover all the blood and mess either. Abuelita, I know a farm is a cycle of life and death, and I know where meat comes from. I know that bad things happen to animals sometimes. But it was really horrible, with bits of bloody meat and bone and feathers all over. I looked at it, and then I grabbed the kid’s arm and started yelling at him. “Why did you kill her? What did she ever do to you?”
His face got all crumpled and he looked like he was going to cry. “A raccoon got Rocky this morning.”
It took a few seconds for the words to start making sense. I dropped his arm. “Who named her Rocky?”
“Rocky’s a rooster, not a hen. I raised him from a chick.” He looked down at the blood in one of the pens. “The raccoon’s over there.” He pointed inside.
I looked closer. There was a stone raccoon inside the chicken pen with a messy chicken leg in its paws. I stared at it. Who would want to carve such a
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