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By JEFFERSON WEAVER
Staff Writer
There’s a chicken on my porch.
We call her Wally, which is short for Walmart (she greets everyone as they come on the porch). Wally moved to the porch because she is too anti-social to live with the anti-social chickens who escaped the chicken pen.
One might think that would make Wally less than pleasant to be around, but that is not the case. She is almost affectionate, in a spindly-legged, cackling sort of way.
Her occasional comrades are a big yellow-gold rooster named Oscar and his harem of more social Rhode Island Reds. They are often accompanied by our trio of leftover Easter ducks. The latter wander the yard like muses in a Greek play, muttering incomprehensible but often poetic phrases, aphorisms which to anyone else might sound like nothing more than incessant quacking.
One might expect that, with the indeterminate number of cats who mooch meals off the Weaver household, a chicken in the yard would be a chicken in the belly. Not so.
You see, Wally thinks she is an eagle, even if she is stuck on the ground like the turkey (who stays in his pen, like a good bird).
Wally is basically afraid of nothing, and has a way of pecking, hissing and squawking that has so far frightened nine cats, three dogs, two possums, and one Baptist preacher.
Well, maybe Preacher Paul wasn’t actually frightened, but Wally thought he was. Knowing our preacher the way I do, and knowing the way preachers in general feel about fried chicken, I would expect most chickens to scatter at the presence of a man of the cloth.
Most, but not Wally.
She stood her ground wanting to know who he was, why he was here, and did he know exactly what could happen to someone who did not respect the majesty of a chicken. Only when I came outside did she make a stately progression to the promenade (known to we commoners as the carport).
While Preacher Paul came out unblooded, Peaches the Cat wasn’t so lucky.
Peaches is everything a cat should be – warm on your lap in the winter, easygoing, quick to purr, and tough on mice. Now, she’s also afraid of chickens.
Before Wally and her family moved out front, Peaches had the run of the porch and the yard. She particularly enjoyed lolling in her favorite sunspot in the driveway.
That was before Wally taught Peaches about the new sheriff in town.
The other afternoon – one of those perfect spring afternoons that calls for lolling – Peaches was happily ensconced in her sunspot when Wally came around the corner.
Peaches ignored the hen (if you know cats, you know they ignore anything very well) until Wally walked up to her like a bully on the beach and pecked Peaches between the eyes. The cat was not amused.
Since then, Wally has picked fights with virtually every cat in the neighborhood, and is none the worse for wear.
It used to be when people pulled up unexpectedly at the house, they worried about the canine cacophony in the side yard.
Like I’ve always said, visitors to our home don’t have to beware of the dogs.
But please, beware of the chicken.
Weaver is a staff writer at The News Reporter. He may be reached via e-mail at jeffweaver@newsreporter.biz, or via telephone at 642-4104, ext 227.
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