Monday, May 13, 2013

Why did the chicken cross the road?


In May, 2010, Michigan Legislators passed a law offering early retirement incentives to teachers. Call it what you will, the law was a way to get older, higher-paid educators out of the system and encourage the hiring of younger, less expensive teachers to take their place. (Okay, that’s a simplification, but it’s the jest of it). 

King was one of those who jumped at the opportunity. I think after 10 years of disciplining young people (at the time he was a high school assistant principal) he was ready to go.

Long story short, within a year we ended up as caretakers on a gentleman’s hobby farm in southwest Michigan. It’s a great retirement gig.

King has traded his sport coat and tie for a Carhartt and work boots. This is the man who grew up in Redford Township, Michigan (outside Detroit) and didn't  know the difference between soybeans and field corn.

He now tends the chickens and rabbits, prunes fruit trees (we’ve yet to get any fruit from them), chops wood and mows an enormous lawn. The gardens are my contribution to this venture.

It’s the chickens that have me the most amazed. From hatching them in an incubator to moving them into the chicken coop and culling the old hens and disposing of overly aggressive roosters, King is quite handy at his newfound career.

Although I grew up in a rather rural setting (not a farm) we had just one chicken while I was growing up. Her name was Henny Penny and I’m sure we got her from the poultry farm next door.

One day Henny Penny became sick and it was decided she should be put out of her misery. The task fell to my father.

Now Dad was not a hunter. I often wondered how it came to be that he had a rifle for putting Henny Penny down. Mom explained to me when they first moved to Hamilton Dad noticed that everyone hunted. He decided he should try it as well and purchased a hunting rifle. Mom had no idea what kind it was. So suffice it to say it was some type of rifle. Turns out Dad did not enjoy hunting so the gun was eventually sold. However, he still owned it when it came time for Henny Penny to meet her demise.

After his retirement Dad worked to compensate for sending
Henny Penny away by keeping the bird feeders filled all
winter long.
Dad was a little squeamish about handling a dead bird, so he dug a hole, mounded the dirt in front of it and placed the sick bird on top of the dirt. It was his plan to shoot the bird, have her fall into the hole and then cover her quickly.

Henny Penny sat demurely on top of the dirt pile. Dad fired, missed the bird and shot the dirt out from under her. Henny Penny gave one horrific squawk and took off for the neighbors across the street, where she lived happily ever after in their barn.

In our family we always knew why the chicken crossed the road. 

1 comment:

  1. You really need to write a book! I just love reading your stories!

    ReplyDelete