They say you can take the chicken out of a man, but that will only make him irrational and bigger than his britches. That's what I found to be true here on the Hollydale Ranch. I had a good thing going, and squandered it all away for blogging. This is where I make my stand ... I reckon.
My story starts as a lad doing odd chores for Sven Hollydale - yep, that was my Granpappy. He gave me ribbon candy for feedin` the chickens, and bringing in the eggs. It was a small step, but a step that led me to my destiny.
As I watched the chicken cowboys workin in the fields, I was drawn to the graceful yet strong talents that kept the young-uns in check. It doesn't take long, and one of the roosters can be headed out towards County Road #9 to meet his maker. The wranglers were like guardian angels, watching over the herd.
Yup, my day came, and at 14 years of age Sven came out to the hen house with a proposition. He explained that the like of a chicken cowboy was a hard and lonely road, but full of rewards. He also said that I would have to go through a thorough and rigorous training period with one of the best. Chicken Lips Dan was his name, and he was a legend. Stories were told in taverns and churches for miles in every direction about the great chicken uprisin`. Well, I am not much of a story teller, but what I've heard is that after a pickup swerved of the turnpike, an entire line of fencin came down. Chickens was goin` mad, hoopin and squakin` ... they were flappin round and travelin in a Westerly direction.
Well, Chicken Lips Dan put on his chickenwire belt and mounted up. There was fire in his eyes and a raw determination that could pierce an eagle right out the sky. Of he went and had every single live bird back in the hen house before dawn. There were red peck marks all over his body, but he did not cry out. Nope, he was a hero, and had a holiday named after him there in town. It's called Chicken Lips Day.
Dan showed me the ropes, and handed me the reins. After 10 long weeks he looked at me with a tear in his eye. "Son, I gave my life to this here farm, and there ain't nuthin that would take me away from it, but I can't take punishment anymore ... I hope you take what I learned ya, and watch over my flock. Time for me to retire, and mosey down that dusty road back to the woman I love, and left behind thirty odd years ago".
I looked him square in the forehead and said, "Are ya sure she's still out there Cowboy Dan"? He never answered that, and I wonder if he's still walkin down side streets callin out her name.
GERTRUDE ..... OHH GERTRUDE WHERE ARE YOU ???
Well, that was a long time ago, and I am still here tendin` Hollydale Ranch. Not a single chicken lost or harmed in two decades. Yah, I left for a few months, but it's in my blood. Now how no way the chicken could leave the man. Wordless Chicken Tuesdays are back in town, so keep your ears on the wagon trail. Ya'll come on back now and join in on the festivities.
Just what IS Wordless Chicken Tuesday? Well, you can click here and get a taste.
Wordless Chicken Tuesday (returning to this blog on Monday Night)
... an early qualifier! New Years Wordless Everything / Moneypenny
My story starts as a lad doing odd chores for Sven Hollydale - yep, that was my Granpappy. He gave me ribbon candy for feedin` the chickens, and bringing in the eggs. It was a small step, but a step that led me to my destiny.
As I watched the chicken cowboys workin in the fields, I was drawn to the graceful yet strong talents that kept the young-uns in check. It doesn't take long, and one of the roosters can be headed out towards County Road #9 to meet his maker. The wranglers were like guardian angels, watching over the herd.
Yup, my day came, and at 14 years of age Sven came out to the hen house with a proposition. He explained that the like of a chicken cowboy was a hard and lonely road, but full of rewards. He also said that I would have to go through a thorough and rigorous training period with one of the best. Chicken Lips Dan was his name, and he was a legend. Stories were told in taverns and churches for miles in every direction about the great chicken uprisin`. Well, I am not much of a story teller, but what I've heard is that after a pickup swerved of the turnpike, an entire line of fencin came down. Chickens was goin` mad, hoopin and squakin` ... they were flappin round and travelin in a Westerly direction.
Well, Chicken Lips Dan put on his chickenwire belt and mounted up. There was fire in his eyes and a raw determination that could pierce an eagle right out the sky. Of he went and had every single live bird back in the hen house before dawn. There were red peck marks all over his body, but he did not cry out. Nope, he was a hero, and had a holiday named after him there in town. It's called Chicken Lips Day.
Dan showed me the ropes, and handed me the reins. After 10 long weeks he looked at me with a tear in his eye. "Son, I gave my life to this here farm, and there ain't nuthin that would take me away from it, but I can't take punishment anymore ... I hope you take what I learned ya, and watch over my flock. Time for me to retire, and mosey down that dusty road back to the woman I love, and left behind thirty odd years ago".
I looked him square in the forehead and said, "Are ya sure she's still out there Cowboy Dan"? He never answered that, and I wonder if he's still walkin down side streets callin out her name.
GERTRUDE ..... OHH GERTRUDE WHERE ARE YOU ???
Well, that was a long time ago, and I am still here tendin` Hollydale Ranch. Not a single chicken lost or harmed in two decades. Yah, I left for a few months, but it's in my blood. Now how no way the chicken could leave the man. Wordless Chicken Tuesdays are back in town, so keep your ears on the wagon trail. Ya'll come on back now and join in on the festivities.
Just what IS Wordless Chicken Tuesday? Well, you can click here and get a taste.
Wordless Chicken Tuesday (returning to this blog on Monday Night)
... an early qualifier! New Years Wordless Everything / Moneypenny