Bloody Saturday

Saturday afternoon, HH took the boys to the school carnival. When they were younger, we always went to the parade. They loved to pick up the candy that was thrown by the participants. You can't beat free road candy. It didn't hurt that most people in the parade knew Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, and her young'uns always had a healthy dose of unhealthy candy slung their way. This year, neither of them wanted to go to the parade. HH and the #1 son had just returned with the new used 4-wheeler, and wanted more than an hour to try it out.

The Pony did not even want to go back for the carnival, but #1 cajoled him, and I threatened him, and HH sat in the $1000 Caravan waiting for whoever came out of the Mansion. That's just the kind of hands-on father he is. HH let his chickens out of the pen and sat in the van. The Pony is famous for begging #1 to go to cartoon movies with him, but forgets that #1 expects reciprocation. After two threats, a few silent tears, and some ill will, The Pony sat his butt in the van.

Turns out that #1 did not even enter the gym to play carnival games. He spent the afternoon down on the concrete basketball court by the bus barn, hooping it up with his cronies. The Pony later admitted to having a good enough time. That was after the INCIDENT.

As they drove down the driveway upon returning home, they noticed a commotion in the front yard. A white chicken lay limp in the too-long grass that HH should have spent the day cutting. The three dogs were tossing something amongst them in a canine keep-away contest. That something was red. That something was The Pony's beloved rooster, Survivor!

I was not-so-blissfully unaware of the carnage, sitting in the basement with neck pain, watching the Kentucky Derby. The Pony came in and sat quietly on the couch upstairs. Figuring he was just mad about me forcing him to go play carnival games, I called him down to watch the race. He was subdued, but that is his manner when he is not happy. I asked him where HH and #1 were, and what they did at carnival, and he gave one-word answers. When Mine That Bird won the Run for the Roses, The Pony went back upstairs.

The #1 son came in. "Those dogs killed another chicken. We came home and saw them tossing Survivor around. I ran at them, and they dropped him. Dad came to pick him up, and Survivor jumped up and ran into the woods. He was just playing dead. The dogs and I chased him over to the barn and cornered him, and Dad picked him up and put him in the pen. He lost some feathers. I TOLD Dad not to leave those chickens out while we went to town!"

The Pony perked up. "Survivor is alive?" That made his day. Twice before bed, he went out to the pen to check on Survivor, who seems to be doing OK, except that he hasn't crowed since the incident. Darn that HH! He acted like it was no big deal. Since HH can't see the forest for the trees, I casually mentioned, "All you have to do when you let the chickens out of the pen is put the dogs inside the pen." HH said, "Hmm..."

Farmer H wants some goats. Am I the only one who sees anything wrong with that?