Stuck in a Furrow

Do you ever get a comment, hear a song or smell something that brings you back to another memory? I love it when that happens...

I bought myself a shirt the other day that is bright pink. Not little girly pink but fushia pink. I love it. I had a patient comment that they love this color and used to have boots the same color. All of a sudden, I was transported back to my childhood years when we lived on the farm.

We had chickens. Not a few chickens but 12,000 birds in 3 seperate barns. We had to do chores 3 times a day and the last set of chores for the day were the job of my brother and I. We had to go into the barns, and pick the eggs and put them on a conveyor belt. When we were done picking ALL the eggs, we went to the front of the barn and cleaned the eggs and did other chores. It took about an hour to do both barns. (The third barn was for the chicks)

When I was about 12, I became terrified of the chickens. My parents thought I was crazy but I would cry and beg and plead to not have to go into the barns with the birds. The job of picking eggs, which should have taken me about 15 minutes (Craig did one side, I did the other) took me an hour. I would start at one end, get scared, run to the back, get scared, run to the front...and eventually either finish the job sobbing uncontrollby or sit in the corner scared shitless until Craig or my parents came and finished. It was insane. The reason I was so scared? I was being attacked...by the roosters! They would flare their neck feathers, and run at you. Normally, we could just kick them...hard and they would realize that their fight was futile and leave us alone. Not me. I was convinced they could smell my fear. The birds hung out on slates, which were about hip height to me. The roosters would follow me from the front of the barn to the back, flaring and attacking...over and over. No one believed me. There was one, I'm sure it was the same one every time...but he would wait for me behind the hen's nests (which were mini-houses) and would run at my head when I got near. He was evil. I was terrified of this stupid bird.

Finally, they realized that maybe I wasn't crazy when this "phase" lasted for forever and that maybe the problem was my bright pink boots. The birds were attracted to it and would run at me. So that was the end of my pink boots and I was back to boring black. I lived on that farm until I was about 15 and continued to work there all through High School. My heart would still beat a bit faster and I'd get a bit anxious every time I went into those barns. I was traumatized by some stupid chickens...

I'm still convinced that those roosters had it out for me.

I miss my pink boots!