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The Chicken House
When I was young our family would go about every other week to my grandparents’ farm to visit. My grandfather passed away when I was seven years old. I enjoyed tagging along with him to the barn and chicken house. When we would get to the chicken house, I remember the chickens looking down at me from their perches in a threating manner and I was scared to death. After all I was a six year old city boy. One morning when he was collecting eggs one of the chickens pecked him on the back of the hand. My grandfather grabbed the chicken by the neck and took it out to a little pen, opened the gate and threw it in. Then he said “you’re tomorrow’s dinner!” I saw a new side of my grandfather that day. I made sure I never crossed him. Who knows, there was probably a pen behind the barn for grandchildren.

Submitted By: Dennis from MO on 2005-01-17

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