Last weekend I went to visit my grandfather. My grandpa, or Pap as we call him (shortened from Papaw), is getting up there in age (he’s 90) but he’s still pretty feisty and gets around pretty well. He’s an apiarist and has a food garden.
And, as of last weekend, keeps chickens too. Now, there’s nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, I want to do ALL of that. Even the chickens. BUT, last weekend, I had to go chicken shopping
It all started when we were eating dinner and got a call from The Chicken Lady. She quouted Pap a price ($5 per chicken. I guess that’s a good deal?) and told him to come to her house to them out when he was ready. He was ready about 15 minutes later. So we piled into my mom’s car an drove to The Chicken Lady’s house. Really, my first indication that this was going to go poorly should have been that The Chicken Lady didn’t have an actual name.
When we pulled into The Chicken Lady’s driveway, I saw this idyllic scene:
When we turned toward her actual house, this was the scene:
And that’s when I got nervous. There were no less than 4 visible abandoned vehicles and, honestly, I was pretty sure that the house was abandoned. The only thing telling me that someone, probably a cannibalistic Chicken Lady, lived in this house were the two wiener dogs barking at me from the driveway and the sound of about 20 other dogs inside.
While I was taking these pictures, and telling Mom and Pap that I thought we should just leave and come back later preferably in the daytime and heavily armed, Mom and Pap disappeared. Yep. They just disappeared. It was like that scene in Jurrassic Park 2 where the group of people is walking through an open field at night and people keep getting pulled into the foliage by velociraptors.
I stood there for a couple of minutes wondering if I should follow the sound of chickens, assuming that’s where Mom and Pap went, or listen to my survival instinct telling me to not go toward the scary abandoned house filled with dogs and chickens. I was still trying to decide when suddenly, Pap reappeared. He was just walking away from the chicken sounds like going into a creepy seemingly abandoned house of horrors was an everyday thing for him.
I stood there gaping at him for a minute, regained my composure, and asked him if The Chicken Lady was at home. He said no and looked back toward the chickens thoughtfully.
About that time, Mom came back too and we quickly got back in the car and escaped. On the way back to Pap’s house, he told us that in the 3 minutes he and Mom were gone he had picked out some chickens and would go back the next day to get them.
I assume that happened, that he made it out alive, and now has several backyard chickens. Of course that assumption is based on the assumption that someone in my family would let me know if Pap was missing.