Chapter 2:
Within the past quarter of a century or so, a term that has become a part of the modern lexicon of the animal world is "whisperer". One only needs to spend 5 minutes channel surfing to find shows about horse whisperers, dog whisperers, or even alligator whisperers. Well, long before any of those individuals drifted into the public's awareness, and before the term "whisperer" even existed, my grandmother was a "chicken whisperer". From sometime long before I was born, until she passed away at the age of 91, grandmother had chickens. I would imagine this was common knowledge among most of the people who knew her; however, excluding myself, I seriously doubt anyone knew that grandmother was a true-blue, dyed in the wool, sure-nuff, bonafide... chicken whisperer. So, I am quite certain that no one else ever witnessed the absolutely amazing things grandmother could get chickens to do! In fact, I have seen her get chickens to dance and sing and even do acrobatics! My personal favorite, however, is when she would host the "Chicken All-Star Olympics". I'm telling you... you haven't lived until you've seen chickens do gymnastics, run hurdles, pole vault and play volleyball! I remember one year it rained so hard her trash pit filled up with water, so I also got to see synchronized chicken swimming and chicken water polo! And although I would really like to be able to, I just can't describe what it is like to see a chicken do a "swan" dive. All I can say is, it was kind of like hearing a dog meow. Yes, grandmother loved her chickens and her talents with chickenkind were nothing short of amazing. That is perhaps what makes this next story so very compelling.
It was a typical fine summer day at grandmother's house and on this particular day, my little sister Shelley was also there. I was about 8 or 9 at the time so Shelley would have been 4 or 5. We would normally start the day off playing together but since my horses (reference Ch. 1) could run so much faster and farther than hers, we would often wind up drifting apart and playing by ourselves. Looking back, I'm sure that is why the following event occurred because if we had stayed together, I would have no doubt prevented it from ever happening in the first place.
It must have been about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and I can't imagine why, but I was inside. Grandmother and I were in her kitchen, which was our normal hang-out, when from somewhere out in the back yard, we heard Shelley let out a blood-curdling scream! My first thought, was that one of the renegade injuns from the back lot was scalping her! I just remember that we immediately jumped up and ran to the back door to see what had happened. As we got to the back door, we were met by my little sister who was bawling uncontrollably and screaming, "THAT CHICKEN BIT ME!!!" So, grandmother brought Shelley inside and did what grandmothers do and before long, Shelley was telling her exactly what happened. Apparently, the chicken whispering gene had not been passed down to my little sister... After Shelley had seen grandmother work her magic with the chickens, she had just naturally assumed she would be able to get the same results. Either that, or she was just trying to pet one of them. Whatever the case, Shelley found out real quick that chickens aren't exactly the most amiable of creatures, because what ever she did, definitely resulted in her getting bit by a chicken.
Now one thing that grandmother always absolutely refused to tolerate was rudeness. She never tolerated it in humans so there was no way in the name of John Wayne's butt she was going to put up with it in a chicken! Not long after grandmother had worked some of her "granddaughter whisperer" skills on my little sister, she had Shelley convinced it was safe to go back outside. So, she and Shelley went out to the chicken coup and grandmother got Shelley to point out exactly which chicken had been the perpetrator. Once Shelley identified the offending chicken, grandmother swooped into the coup with the grace, speed and stealth of a black panther and in less than a blink of an eye, was walking back out of the coup, chicken in tow.
You know, when I think about it now it is really interesting. When grandmother came out of the coup with that chicken, you would have thought Shelley would have completely wigged out but Shelley just stood there calmly and then quietly followed, as grandmother carried the chicken back to the house. That was just the effect grandmother had. Whenever she took control of a situation, all fear and anxiety just magically drifted away and like Shelley, people and animals alike, quietly followed grandmother's lead without question.
When we got back to the house, grandmother looked at Shelley and said, "We're just gonna teach this chicken a lesson so it won't ever bite anyone ever again." Suddenly, Shelley perked up and got all bright-eyed and said, "Okay grandmother!" as she wiped away a dried tear, with the back of her little hand. In a flash, grandmother had that chicken laid out on its side and was holding it down with her left hand, while raising her hatchet high in the air with her right! With a mighty "WHOOSH!" grandmother propels the hatchet through the air and it doesn't stop until it is solidly imbedded in the stump on the underside of the chicken's neck! Of course this causes the chicken's head to shoot out into the middle of the back yard! Almost immediately, bright red blood starts jetting out of the chicken's now headless neck and I am instantly made painfully aware of just exactly what it means to "run around like a chicken with its head cut off"! That chicken suddenly got up and started running and jumping and flapping its wings and doing all sorts of carrying on! At that particular moment in time, there was no doubt in my mind that the reason the chicken had bitten my little sister was because it had been demon possessed!!! The display that headless chicken put on was absolutely the eeriest thing I had ever seen in my life up to that point.
Just when I am starting to wonder if maybe my life is about to end at the hands of a demonic headless chicken, I start hearing a funny little sound. It was a sound I thoroughly recognized, but it seemed so out of place, given the seriousness of the situation. I mean after all... we had us a demonic, headless chicken on our hands, that no doubt was wanting revenge for being separated from its head! This thing was a bloodthirsty killer and there was no telling who its first victim might be! So when I heard my little sister off to the side giggling, my brain just sort of locked up. I couldn't seem to reconcile the contrasting images in my head... giggling sister in one and killer chicken in the other. So naturally, I looked to grandmother for the correct answer. When I turned to see grandmother, I expected to see her familiar stern look of concentration. It was that "Tom Landryesque" expression she used to employ whenever she was working out a problem. Much to my surprise, grandmother wasn't looking serious at all! She was just standing there kind of peacefully, one hand on her hip, the other holding a bloody hatchet, and a huge grin on her face. By the time the chicken collapsed for good, the three of us were laughing uncontrollably. Needless to say, we laughed all the way through supper, which if I remember correctly, was some kind of dish made out of pork. Gotcha! No, of course we plucked and ate that chicken! Otherwise, what kind of story would this be?!!
Since that day of long ago, I have come to realize that it was a day that profoundly changed my life forever. First, not a week goes by that I don't hear someone describing someone else as "running around like a chicken with its head cut off". Now every time I hear that expression, I have an immediate flashback of that headless chicken, running around and convulsing in grandmother's back yard. Second, that was the first time in my life that I had ever seen grandmother harm another living being. I didn't know she was even capable of doing such a thing, especially with the calculated cold-heartedness she seemed to exhibit that day. That is even before taking into account this was not a crazed dog or something that had harmed one of her chickens. This WAS one of her chickens!!! This leads us to the third way this event affected my life. If grandmother could heartlessly kill one of her beloved chickens, just for being rude... then what could she be capable of doing to an ill-mannered grandson? Fortunately, I never found out the answer to that question. Perhaps, with the single stroke of her hatchet, grandmother effectively improved my manners forever.
Daily Clifton-ism:
Whenever you can't seem to find the answer, go back and make sure you are asking the right question.
Message from God:
When all else fails, Love.
Words of Wisdom from Grandmother:
When you find you are having difficulty with someone, rather than trying to get them to change in order to suit you, ask God to change YOU so that you might be more accepting of them.
Okay friends, that's it for this go around, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story. I apologize for the long lay-off... hopefully the next submission will come much quicker. Until then, have a great one!!! ~~~ CHJ
