I gathered the feed from a bucket in the barn and proceeded to pour the mixture of dried corn and grain into the trough. As soon as the feed hit the bottom, they came rushing. Running, running, the chickens all gathered around the feeding trough and gorged on their favorite food.
After it subsided, here he comes; strolling along, slow as molasses - William. He was quite the gentleman for being a rooster and has a brain the size of a walnut. He always let the 'ladies' go first; after all, if it weren't for them, he wouldn't have so many children.
"Mary," mother screamed from the porch, "time for dinner."
Setting down the bucket, I started up the trail that led up to the house.
My mother and I lived on a small ranch in Lewis County, Tennessee. Living in the country was marvelous. I was homeschooled, I got to get up in the morning and take care of the animals, and best of all I got to take in the fresh, country air that had sort of a sweet scent - paradise.
My feet scuffed the rough, dirt path as I followed it slowly up to the small house in the middle of the wilderness. As I reached the porch, I wiped the sweat of a long days work on my plaid shorts.
I opened the screen door with gumption, for the sweet smell of cornbread and pinto beans filled the air, and I was starving.
My boots clucked on the hardwood, mahogany floor and I proceeded into the kitchen.
"Mom, I can smell the Heaven from the cattle yard," I said in my thick, country accent.
"Well, that's saying something, because last time I was out there, all I could smell was the Heaven we call manure."
I laughed at her comment, and sat down at the small, round kitchen table covered with a blue, plaid table cloth; in case you haven't figured it out already, we liked plaid.
Mother stirred the pot of boiling beans and scooped some in a bowl, "Eat up sweetie, you've earned it."
"It's just a day's work," I said beaming.
"Honey, if it wasn't for your help, I don't even think this farm would still be running. After you father died, it's been really hard lately; I'm just so grateful for all of your help," she told me with a sincere look on her face.
"Thanks momma," I think my smile grew wider.
"What you sitting there for, that cornbread aint going to cut itself," she said sarcastically.
I grabbed the butter knife, and proceeded to cut the sweet, soft, homemade corn bread into 4×4 sections. I served my mother and me. We then took our bowl of beans and our plate of cornbread and headed outside on the porch to watch the sunset. We watched the yellow-orange sun sink behind the horizon till there was nothing left but darkness. The temperature quickly dropped and we cuddled on the porch-couch with a quilt and watched the stars.
"How many do you think there are?" I asked her as if she knew the answer to this impossible question.
"As many as you want there to be, sweetie."
And with that, I fell asleep.
***
I was woken up by a loud crow coming from William. I look up at the sky and can tell by the position of the moon that it is around 3:00 A.M. I looked over beside me and see that my mother had gone inside to sleep, careful not to disturb me.
The loud, piecing sound of the rooster echoed again through the country side. Why would he do this?
I decide to go see what the matter was. Uncovering myself, my body was instantly exposed to the cool, night air. I cautiously slip on my shoes and head down the path toward the pen.
