Chicken Feet

This is a rerun from 2005. My aunt died on December 31, twenty eight years ago. I miss her.

When I was a child, I had the awesome opportunity to stay with my cousin on her family's farm. It was the kind of farm from the picture books - a big red barn full of cows and cats, a pig sty full of snorting hogs and extreme stench, and the most curious place of all, the chicken coop.

The chicken coop was interesting to say the least. But, one day, what caught the attention of Suzi and me were the extremely dry condition of the chicken's feet. After a brief consultation with each other, one of us figured out that the chief problem was that their feet were dirty. To remedy this, we ran off for a bucket of soap and water. Being the caring souls that we were, I even remember that we got warm water, and also a towel.

If you have ever tried to catch a chicken, I will tell you that they do not come when called. Even if you know their names, they still won't come. But, they are somewhat curious birds, and did seem a tiny bit interested in what was in the bucket, so that helped us some.

After much running and flapping, Suzi was able to catch one, and we proceeded to attempt to wash her feet. She was NOT amused. This chicken must have been able to call out some sort of chicken-language warning, as chickens (which i am told do NOT fly) started to head for the roof of the coop, trees, fence tops - anything to avoid the bucket. I really DID try to get her feet dry, but this was not even appreciated.

Trying to catch the second chicken was even harder. But, Suzi wasn't the sort to give up easily, and we did get another one, and another, and another. Funny thing though, the chickens seemed to know how to speak with humans in a way Suzi and I had yet to understand.

I can still see my aunt running from the farm house. Her head was wrapped in a scarf. She didn't look friendly, like the farm wives in my books.

Upon seeing her, the chickens rejoiced. Rejoicing chickens sing a totally different song than terrified tattling chickens.

Suzi and I learned that day that we hadn't yet procured enough words to convince an adult that what we were attempting was truly a righteous and noble endeavor.

Jesus told us to wash one another's feet. My aunt just didn't 'get it' that day.

I'm sure egg production was down for a few days, but if my aunt had wanted to stuff a mattress or two, she certainly could have.

The amazing thing about it is that the chickens were somehow comforted by the lady who was well known to have chopped off heads when their egg production dropped.

Life is SO like that.