I Need A Chicken Daddy

Our chickens have lost their daddy. HH has been gone to North Carolina since Monday morning, and nobody is minding the chickens! HH had to leave at 4:00 a.m. to get to the airport. He lovingly tended his chickens before he left, giving them a feeder full of food, and some water. He said they would be fine if they knocked the feed out of the feeder. They could peck it up off the ground. The water is another matter. He instructed the #1 son to check on their water Monday evening.

As you might have gathered during your visits to the Mansion, the #1 son is feeling his 13ness. I drove to town last night at 7:00 to pick him up from basketball practice. Upon arriving home, and grumping, "WHO turned on the Christmas lights," he then gathered up his junk and a bag of brownies lovingly baked at Chez Grandma, and headed for the shower. "Wait a minute," I grumped back. "Didn't Dad say you were supposed to check on his chickens?" #1 commanded his little brother to do the deed. "You do it, Pony. If they don't have water, I'll get it after my shower."

The Pony was petrified. He does not like the dark. Even though the chicken mansion is in sight of the real Mansion, only 50 feet away, with a porch light, and a dusk-to-dawn light halfway to the pen, and a major flashlight in his hand, and me standing on the porch talking to him, The Pony was skittish. He ran for his life after a cursory peep into the chicken pen. It reminded me of Chevy Chase's Clark Griswold looking at the Grand Canyon while Aunt Edna slumbered eternally on the roof of the Family Truckster. The Pony declared, "I think they have water. It looked like it was half full." I, the eternal pessimist, took that to mean 'half empty'. Out of the shower, #1 refused to double-check. There's going to be some 'splainin' to do if HH arrives home to some dehydrated chickens, sprawled about the coop like a Dali painting, The Persistence of Fowl Memory.

Oh, and those Christmas lights? The Pony wanted me to turn them on. Don't go thinkin' that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom came home from work and hauled out a ladder and strung Christmas lights around the Mansion. Laws, NO! M-O-O-N. That spells, "Are you freakin' crazy?" You see, we here at the Mansion believe that Christmas lights can be enjoyed year round. You never know when you might get the urge to light up one balmy May evening. So we leave them up after the festive holiday season has ended. It's kind of the norm here in Hillmomba. All I had to do was flip a light switch in the garage. I had much better success than the aforementioned Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation. The Pony had thought that #1 would be pleased and surprised to see the lights. Au contraire. That boy is too much like me.

Meanwhile, our chickens remain unattended and unloved. Even the special needs chicken. Won't you...be a daddy...to a chicken like herm? (Because we don't know if it's a her or a him).