| General Fiction posted March 19, 2013 | Chapters: |
...7 8 -9- 10... 
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Lessons in Life
A chapter in the book Rabbit
The Way With Chickens
by bhogg
| Background The young boy, nicknamed Rabbit, learns his mother is having a baby. To make things easier on Mom, he and his older brother John are to stay the 1959 summer with Grandparents. |
Chickens are really dumb. My chores centered on them, so I got to see first hand. Every day, I fed them, made sure they had water and gathered eggs. Every third day, the poop and straw needed raking and placed in a special place at the end of the garden. When it rained, it was necessary to run out and chase them into the roost. The dumb things would stay out, look up at the rain with their mouths open and drown.
Stupid little boogers. I loved every minute of it.
When you live on a farm, you shouldn't name the animals. There's a good reason. It's hard to eat something that has a name. My favorite was a chicken that I named Ernest. Of course, my friend Virgil told me the name didn't make sense since Ernest was really an Ernestine. I don't know, a chicken is a chicken.
Ernest was my favorite because he was so different. The other chickens actually had an elegant, regal look about them. They'd throw their butts up in the air, hold their heads high and prance. Ernest would just pooch his head back and forth and shuffle around. For some reason, the other chickens hated him.
One day, I came out and found that the other chickens had pecked Ernest around his wing and back. His feathers had been roughed off and you could see flecks of blood on his bare skin. My grandpa had a purple medicine that he used to swab on the mules and cows, so it seemed to be that it would be perfect for chickens. Ernest always let me pick him up, so gathering him up, I applied the purple salve and sent him on his way.
The next morning, Virge and I were picking some figs for my grandma. At the end of the chicken pen was what looked like a muddy lump. Walking over to take a look, it wasn't a lump. It was Ernest. He was dead. Where the salve was applied was now bare, bloody skin. You could see the bones.
Virge knows everything about country stuff, so I asked him, "Why did the other chickens kill Ernest?"
So like Virge, he paused a moment before replying. "Rabbit, sometimes critters kill one another because they're different. It happens mostly when they's penned up. With that purple salve, old Ernest was even more different, and the others just came over and pecked him to death."
"Oh, no, you mean I was responsible."
"No, child, you wasn't responsible. It was going to happen no matter what. We should have culled Ernest out a long time ago. Animals just don't cotton to others that are different, even of their own kind. It's just the way of life."
"Well, that's just stupid. It don't make any sense at all."
"Rabbit, come on over here and sit down on the end of the wagon. Old Virge needs a chew and a rest anyhow." Sitting down, he pulled out his Barlow knife and cut off a plug of tobacco.
"Can I have a chew too?"
"No, just sit down and take a rest for a minute."
Patient as always, he finally asked, "Did you know that your daddy and my grand-nephew Joe went off to war together."
"Yeah, I reckon I knew that."
"They sure did. It's funny, because the only time in my life I left around here was in 1943. I went with your grandpa to take those two boys to Columbus, Georgia. They both joined the Army. Your daddy went to Saipan to fight the Japanese. Joe went to Germany to fight Hitler."
"Virge, I really do want to find out more about my daddy and Joe, but what does it have to do with Ernest?"
"Now, Rabbit, you know that Virge is an old man. I'll get to it if you'll give me a minute." Another pause before he replied, "You thought it was stupid when a chicken killed another chicken, just because he was different?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, it ain't really different with men. Both of the countries that your daddy and Joe fought against was killing people just because they was different. Think about it for a minute. A chicken is a dumb old thing, but something in its blood just makes it want to kill another chicken that's different. It's troublesome. Why do you suppose a man wants to kill another man, just because he's different?"
"I don't rightly know. Why?"
Spitting a stream of tobacco, Virge said, "I reckon it's in a man's blood too."
Stupid little boogers. I loved every minute of it.
When you live on a farm, you shouldn't name the animals. There's a good reason. It's hard to eat something that has a name. My favorite was a chicken that I named Ernest. Of course, my friend Virgil told me the name didn't make sense since Ernest was really an Ernestine. I don't know, a chicken is a chicken.
Ernest was my favorite because he was so different. The other chickens actually had an elegant, regal look about them. They'd throw their butts up in the air, hold their heads high and prance. Ernest would just pooch his head back and forth and shuffle around. For some reason, the other chickens hated him.
One day, I came out and found that the other chickens had pecked Ernest around his wing and back. His feathers had been roughed off and you could see flecks of blood on his bare skin. My grandpa had a purple medicine that he used to swab on the mules and cows, so it seemed to be that it would be perfect for chickens. Ernest always let me pick him up, so gathering him up, I applied the purple salve and sent him on his way.
The next morning, Virge and I were picking some figs for my grandma. At the end of the chicken pen was what looked like a muddy lump. Walking over to take a look, it wasn't a lump. It was Ernest. He was dead. Where the salve was applied was now bare, bloody skin. You could see the bones.
Virge knows everything about country stuff, so I asked him, "Why did the other chickens kill Ernest?"
So like Virge, he paused a moment before replying. "Rabbit, sometimes critters kill one another because they're different. It happens mostly when they's penned up. With that purple salve, old Ernest was even more different, and the others just came over and pecked him to death."
"Oh, no, you mean I was responsible."
"No, child, you wasn't responsible. It was going to happen no matter what. We should have culled Ernest out a long time ago. Animals just don't cotton to others that are different, even of their own kind. It's just the way of life."
"Well, that's just stupid. It don't make any sense at all."
"Rabbit, come on over here and sit down on the end of the wagon. Old Virge needs a chew and a rest anyhow." Sitting down, he pulled out his Barlow knife and cut off a plug of tobacco.
"Can I have a chew too?"
"No, just sit down and take a rest for a minute."
Patient as always, he finally asked, "Did you know that your daddy and my grand-nephew Joe went off to war together."
"Yeah, I reckon I knew that."
"They sure did. It's funny, because the only time in my life I left around here was in 1943. I went with your grandpa to take those two boys to Columbus, Georgia. They both joined the Army. Your daddy went to Saipan to fight the Japanese. Joe went to Germany to fight Hitler."
"Virge, I really do want to find out more about my daddy and Joe, but what does it have to do with Ernest?"
"Now, Rabbit, you know that Virge is an old man. I'll get to it if you'll give me a minute." Another pause before he replied, "You thought it was stupid when a chicken killed another chicken, just because he was different?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, it ain't really different with men. Both of the countries that your daddy and Joe fought against was killing people just because they was different. Think about it for a minute. A chicken is a dumb old thing, but something in its blood just makes it want to kill another chicken that's different. It's troublesome. Why do you suppose a man wants to kill another man, just because he's different?"
"I don't rightly know. Why?"
Spitting a stream of tobacco, Virge said, "I reckon it's in a man's blood too."
 Recognized |
|
Shorter than normal, but the ending seemed right.
List of characters:
Rabbit - young boy nine years old
Grandma Louise (on the father's side)
Grandpa Horace (on the father's side)
Grandma Nan (on his mother's side)
Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side)
Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend
Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry
Wesley - Rabbit's cousin
John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis
Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother
*** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. List of characters:
Rabbit - young boy nine years old
Grandma Louise (on the father's side)
Grandpa Horace (on the father's side)
Grandma Nan (on his mother's side)
Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side)
Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend
Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry
Wesley - Rabbit's cousin
John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis
Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother
*** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...
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