[lit-ideas] Sunday Chickens
- From: David Ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 9 Feb 2014 12:02:16 -0800
Five of the chickens--Pecorino was busy with something--exited their coop this
morning and gathered in the ice-sealed snow beneath the wire chair that has
become their new congressional meeting place. By a slim margin, they voted to
appoint a sub-committee to look into the pros and cons of atheism. Both sides
in the debate blamed the weather.
The week began with hints of what was to follow. With the first few flakes
coming down, the chickens sauntered over to my office door and knocked. I slid
the door open.
"This stuff, falling from the sky, I don't know if you've noticed..." offered
Captain Mimo.
"It's white," said Cheddar.
"Snow," I said, defining the drift.
"Whatever you call it... we don't like it."
I assumed the role of devil's advocate, "I thought you liked white water."
"Not this particular kind," said Rocky.
"If you've any of the other kind?" Cheddar asked
"No," I said, "I'm afraid we're all out." And here was my error; I pointed to
the sky, "This is all we've got." Note the "we," implying responsibility.
From such small errors great changes can come. This was not evident at the
time.
"That's a shame only you see we find it a bit..."
"Cold?" I suggested.
"Yes that is indeed what we find." Wensleydale was certain.
"We find that too," I said.
"I had no idea gods felt the cold," said Wensleydale.
"Oh most definitely; that's why we have mansions."
Rocky cleared her throat, "I don't like to mention it but we were wondering..."
Pecorino had already taken a couple of steps forward. I blocked the way with
my foot.
"Whether you could come inside?"
"If it's not too much trouble?" said Appenzeller.
"Actually I do have a problem with that," I responded.
"The poo?" I nodded. "Damn."
"We thought that might be the issue."
It's important in a negotiation to show empathy. "Not much you can do about
that is there?"
"Two hour digestive cycle," Wensleydale lamented.
"It is quick," said Cheddar. "Oooh, there I go again."
"I think the snow's tapering off," Appenzeller opined, ignoring the evidence.
"We'll be on our way then."
"Nice mansion," said Pecorino.
Back in their own accommodation, they de-briefed.
"I think that went very well," said Cheddar.
"What do you think?"
"Of what?"
"Our current situation."
"I don't like it. It's too quiet."
"Very quiet."
"Ominous."
"Maybe it's the dawn of another ice age."
"That's was my view."
"I thought it first."
"I think we can agree it's cold."
"That was my thought."
"Wind's getting up."
"What do you think, girls?"
"Bed time!"
They all jumped onto their perch and huddled together and puffed themselves out.
"The thing about cold is you're not sure where your feathers end and another's
begin."
"Budge over."
Later in the week, they were back, once again knocking on my window.
Mimo was lead spokesperson, "We were thinking of staging a coup but decided
it's not quite the weather for it."
"Weather for it," said Cheddar.
"What was the aim of the coup?" I asked. "What wrongs would you like
redressed?"
"No dressing involved," said Rocky, looking rather shocked.
"No, no," said Mimo, "we've got feathers see?" She pointed with her head.
"Not very observant," said Pecorino.
"Must be distracted by something," said Appenzeller.
Wensleydale went right to the nub of the matter. "Got a lot on his mind, this
god. You can see it in his eyes. Probably having withdrawal symptoms from
forgoing the smite."
While I stood there in the open doorway, the congressional delegation
considered this.
"He doesn't smite does he?"
"No. No evidence of the urge to smite."
"One might call him benevolent."
Pecorino had a memory of the mansion's interior. "Bit of a stretch, that. I
mean he leaves us out here in the cold when he's got that nice looking mansion.
Benevolence would imply a more just approach."
"Warm as toast, in there, I shouldn't wonder."
"Toast!"
"Toast!"
I'd had enough. "I'm still here you know, and my question stands."
"Tell it to sit."
"No point standing when you can sit," said Wensleydale, demonstrating.
"Especially in this cold."
"East wind."
"Frozen food."
"And water."
I asked, "Are those your issues?"
"No we feel they're yours, actually."
"...fall within your bailiwick..."
"...and we'd like something done about them..."
"...done about..."
"...or, fair warning, when it warms up a little, we'll stage a coup..."
"...or revolution..."
"...coup or revolution..."
"...one or the other."
"But surely," I pointed out, "when the weather is warmer your need for a coup
will have passed?"
"Boxes clever this one."
"He's got a point."
They withdrew, for consultations.
Of course I did worry about them and so I tacked a carpet to the front of their
coop. That's where the openings are and it faces east. It blocked the worst of
the wind. The next morning a delegation appeared on the deck. "What have you
done now?"
"It's for the wind," I explained.
"It may well suit your wind," said Rocky, "but it doesn't suit us."
"Solidarity ladies," said Mimo.
"Time to sit," said Wensleydale.
"What do we want?"
"Light."
"When do we want it?"
"Now."
They tired of this and returned to the coop. Possibly to advance coup
planning. But the fervor died. Snow will do that. Later I went to take them
warm water and interrupted the following exchange.
"I beg your pardon, you've got some of that white stuff on you."
"You too."
"Look, there's more; I'll just pick it off shall I?"
"Another bit."
"Bit?"
"Biiits."
"Not that kind."
"Tastes quite good though, this particular white water."
"Whaaat?"
After a very cold night in which the wind was slow to die but eventually let us
sleep, the chickens woke when I pulled back the carpet in front of their door.
This was not their usual, "Whaaaat?" More than a hint of shell shock in it. I
opened the inner door and showed them food and water. Three of them peered
around and considered whether it was worth jumping to the ground. The other
three were apparently busy composing will and testament.
"What have you done now?" Rocky demanded. She was angry. "That white stuff's
everywhere on the perimeter. We can't get out."
"Careless I call it," said Mimo, "careless."
"I'm trying my best," I offered. "The roof doesn't cover the entire structure.
And as for the outside world..."
Cheddar jumped down to continue her with her tasting notes. "It's still very
white, but not at all like the other white water. There's a hint of wait,
wait... I've got it, a hint of cold!."
Eyes were rolled.
I said, "There's another storm coming. Have some cheese."
"Cheese?"
"It's new. I think you'll like it."
Rocky got the first bits thrown. The others eventually muscled their way to
some.
"It's good," they exclaimed, mouths and throats stuffed.
I brushed my hands together. "All I've got," I said, leaving. Wensleydale
followed me out.
"We wish to air grievances."
"It's too cold to air anything," I said, "go back to your nice warm straw."
"We shall overcome," Wensleydale sang, and sat down.
The others pecked around, not interested in joining her.
"I can't change Nature," I said.
"But you can exert influence," said Wensleydale.
"Only over your domain," I said.
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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