Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Chicken Love

I have met someone who understands Chicken Love. Actually, I am reading her memoir, which is almost the same thing as getting to Know someone. Her name is Haven Kimmel and the book is A Girl Named Zippy: Growing up small in Mooreland, Indiana. 

She starts a new section: "When it became completely impossible for me to live without a pet chicken. . ."

She and I would get along.

"Speckles was sitting on my shoulder, and if I made kissing sounds at her she turned and pecked me lightly on the lips. . . . Speckles and I loved each other. Dad never had to tell me to feed her - I couldn't wait to see her every day. In the mornings she hopped out of her box when she heard me coming, and did something like a tail-feather wag as I opened the pen door. . . . Other times she sat down, tucking her legs up underneath her and making little happy chicken sounds, the bird equivalent of a purring cat. "

If you think she and I are both crazy, you don't understand Chicken Love. You need to read her book and then you will begin to understand.

PS: I am a little bit crazy, just not when it comes to Chicken Love.

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