The Chicken Knock

While raising my family out in the country chickens were a part of our unique little farm life and their purpose was to provide eggs for my family, and those hens did their job well. Those layers supplied my family, parents, and friends with farm-fresh eggs. They had free roam and we cooped them up only at night. My two youngest boys would find stashes of eggs all over. They would come running up to the house with more than a dozen eggs collected in their tee shirts. Everyone who visited would go home with at least a dozen eggs.

After my youngest son graduated from high school he moved into town to live with his dad and I decided it was now time for me to expore my life as I had spent more than twenty years raising four children as a single parent. It was now time for me to grow and find myself. So off I went. But after 20 years of working throughout California for several publications elderly parents brought me back to my hometown. The bond I built with granchildren and my daughter's request that I could move anywhere I wanted I just couldn't leave the area code, I knew it was time to settle back here at home. So once again I found a simple place out in the country for myself and my mom after the loss of my dad and his battle with prostate cancer.

Backyard chickens was the first thing I added to our little country home and my mother enjoyed watching them as they pecked and scratched throughout the yard. Every day Billy the rooster and his three hens, Thelma, Louise and, Rosie were just a little diffent than the chickens we had when the kids were growing up. For some reason I made this bond with this feathered little flock and I found myself shopping at local pet stores and buying them more than just layer pellats and hen scratch. I was buying them meal worms, chicken treats and tossing them out left over scrapes and just about 5 p.m they would crowd my front door because they knew I would toss them out some sweet bread or other goodies. So now this had become a habit with them.

If I'm not on time, you can often hear them pecking at the front door. A faint knock, which I actually think was kind of cool. How many people have chickens that can knock on their door? It's so cool they are not just knocking on my door; they are now knocking on my neighbor's door. To them, anytime a door opens, sweet bread comes out.

"Billy's over there knocking on the neighbor's door," Mom yells at me. "He needs to learn that he just can't be knocking on people's doors begging for food with them three chickens standing behind him."

Now how do I explain that to a chicken? I guess mom was a little embarrased to think our chickens are out there begging for food after all we fed them so good.

This gang of feathered pests will now peck and peck and peck and peck till you open the damn door. I have created pesky feathered peckers. When you open the door, you get the one-eyed chicken look as they strut around, waiting to see what you toss out. They cackle back and forth, not sure if it's because they like what I gave them, or they think I'm cheap because all they got was dried bread crumbs and not yesterday's pan dulce.

They may be chickens, but they were my chickens, and they are the most fabulous chickens in our neighborhood. The neighbor eventually started tossing them out some goodies and even she enjoyed their knocks at there door. So if you are ever come knocking at my door, please don't be surprised if I open it and throw some dried sweet bread out at you.

Life in the country, where serenity is interrupted by a chicken knocking on the front door.