Chancee's Chicken Ranch

Early in the morning the sun was all ablaze and Chance headed out to take care of the chickens.

A gorgeous sunrise in Wayne County.

I love how the chickens gather in the window to gossip and soak in the sun.

One morning as we sat around the Breakfast table we discussed the way in which Chancee's mind works. You need to know that the chickens are the full responsibility of this five year old and by the time breakfast was over we were giggling at the thought of this poem that emerged with in minutes of our conversation.

My Chicken Ranch

My Dad bought me some chickens; he got ‘em when they were young.
They’d sit there in my little hand and peck me on my thumb.
And then they all got bigger and do you know what they did?
Well, they started laying eggs for this chicken growing kid.

So, I decided it was time to brand my chicken brood.
I wasn’t sure if they’d let me or even act to good.
It wouldn’t hurt to try it, though I wasn’t sure just how.
But, I had watched my daddy when he’d branded our ol’ cow.

So I grabbed a chicken, took the stick that I’d got hot.
And I surely tried my best, but to brand it, I could not.
I’d never heard a chicken make that awful screeching sound
She began pecking and scratching, I dropped her to the ground

And as I turned my chicken loose, her tail was in a flame!
That smell of burning feathers told me this was not a game!
That chicken ran squawking to the haystack so’s she could hide.
I really love cooked chicken but them cows don’t eat hay fried.

I panicked, and I started yelling with a scratchy voice

‘Cause Chickens don’t speak human, so’s I really had no choice.
And though I squawked and bellered like a chicken probably would
That chicken kept on hiding and things just weren’t looking good.

The smoke was getting thicker and I headed for the hose
I cranked it so hard that the water hit me in the nose.
Flustered and quite anxious I really tried as best I could
To catch that dancing hose, but that durn hose misunderstood.

But then finally, by some pure luck, I caught that flying snake
And thanked my lucky stars that I had got a little break.
That’s when I turned to see red flames a coming from the stack
And I started in spraying and a praying in my track.

The flames they started dying and I took a long deep breath
When all the sudden something nearly scared me clear to death.
That chicken flew straight at me with some smoke still on her tail
Like a real hungry coyote on a frightened rabbits trail.

I don’t know how she done it but I landed on my back
And I opened up my eyes ‘neath that smoking old haystack
Standing right there above me and looking not too happy
Was a man I know quite well, there stood my good ol pappy.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?” came the words out of his mouth.
All I felt like doing was getting up and running south.
“I’m just trying to brand my chickens, so’s people know they’re mine.”
“I want to be like you dad!” and I nearly started cry’n.

I described my situation I could see the rage die
Luckily the fire was out in the haystack and dad’s eye.
We cleaned up from the mess I’d made it weren’t and easy chore,
Because I’d burned up three whole bales and I’d singed many more.

And as we turned to head inside, I brightened at a thought
“Dad,” says I, “I’m thinking with all these chickens that I got
If may be sometime really soon or even clear next year
Instead of branding all my hens, let’s mark ‘em on the ear.”

©Cathy Brian 2010