I'm on "chicken duty". This is far more than just taking care of the new baby chicks we got through the mail, as well as the hens, and Sir Reggie, the rooster who struts the coop. He checks me out taking daily eggs from the hen house as I can't help but notice of the pecking order amongst the brood. Sir Reggie is the Dude, and the chicks scurry around for attention. They squawk at each other sometimes, and chase each other around the coop. The sound of hens cackling is something like listening to rap - it's an acquired taste.
Meanwhile in my own coop, or the big hen house as I call it, my my oldest sister has been away from the roost on another continent, while I, the creative-city girl turned renegade, who never having stepped on a farm let alone take care of one, has been taking care of the farm animals and my 88 year old mother, who is more work than any of the animals. Think George Castanza's mother, screaming she doesn't need help while falling backwards onto the nearest chair. It's sad to watch people lose their independence as my Mom hangs onto her fierce independence.
Yesterday someone came to look at my Mom's house to possibly buy. Even though she is "not selling". This immediately sent her into a tizzy, fearing she would suddenly be plucked from her home and tossed into a retirement community, a fate worse than hell. My Mom had sold her house to my sister and brother in law, who now own the title. The moment she realized she really isn't the "owner", it became a not so polite argument across two continents.
My mother, betrayed my sister would allow someone to entertain the notion that she would be selling her home, promptly told her off as well as any one else who inquired. I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. After several heated e mails via China, a temporary truce across continents finally ensued. When my sister got home, they never spoke a word about it despite the fact that this kind of confrontation has never happened between my sister, the "perfect chicken", and my mother, the "queen of the roost". The pecking order remains in tact despite feathers ruffled.
The farm is quiet today. But, the hen house will never quite be the same.
