Choose a memory and turn it into a short story…
FARM TALES
The wind howled around the creaky century-old barn. Its old bones groaned over years of neglect as it worked hard to keep itself together in the heart of the winter storm brewing. Muffled voices joined in from behind the two-pair door holding the elements at bay. The contents of the hay-covered interior ruffled their feathers, clucking their excitement over the meal they knew was a moment away.
The top of the door swung open as an exceptionally violent gust shoved its way through. The feathered friends leaped into a frenzy. Fat little bodies collided to outrun the frigid nemesis disrupting their nesting.
“Oh, Marta, I told you to be careful! The wind is awful!” The first little voice squeaked.
“I didn’t mean to. It pulled it right out of my hands!” The other complained as two bundled bodies slipped through the small opening in the bottom half of the barn door.
“Hurry, they are freaking out! We don’t want ’em cracking the eggs. Mom will be pissed.” Together they pushed into the door until the latch clicked.
“Woof.” Marta let out an exasperated sigh as she sank to the floor. The barn suddenly felt quiet without the wind bouncing from wall to wall. “Mom would be more pissed if she heard you using that word.” She smiled slyly.
“Oh yeah? You just said it. If you tell, I tell.” Her sister punched her softly in the arm, standing up and holding out a hand to help Marta up.
“Ouch, Tess. Don’t do that!” Marta grunted as she lifted off the ground and flew to her feet. “Remember what happened last time?”
“Then grow a little shrimp.” Tess teased.
Marta pursed her lips into a plump pout.
“C’mon, we don’t have time for that. Let’s get the eggs and go!” Tess prompted as she moved to the first set of nesting boxes.
Marta looked around the arena. After the outburst, most of the hens had made their way back to their designated spots. She nodded firmly and made her way to the side room. The heat lamp warmed her face as she crossed over the knee-high barrier standing between the back room and the main chicken coop.
“Hey, chickens!” Her happy burst was met with a chorus of bock blocking. “I’m sorry for this. I know you’ve been working hard. Thank you for the eggs, though. We like them. They are the best breakfast ever.” She moved to the first nesting box. A tubby pepper speckled hen whose rump had been turned toward Marta had spun in a half-circle toward the noisy little critter coming to collect their bounty. “And, did you, eggs are what you put in a pumpkin pie to make it fluffy and stuff? My mom just taught me that the other day. So thank you for the pies. I will save you some in the slop so you can see for yourself.”
Tess peaked through the door smiling ear to ear. “Are you still talking to them? Don’t you think it’s a little weird to offer them egg dishes, Marty?”
Marta froze with her hand outstretched. Her eyes bulged at the thought. Gradually, her shock faded into annoyance. She frowned and slowly looked over her shoulder toward Tessy’s sly grin. “Do you have to ruin everything for me?”
“If you thought a little bit, I wouldn’t have to. You could ruin it for yourself just fine.”
“Shouldn’t you be doing your side?” Marta cried, sparking a flurry of clucking from the unsettled hens, “I’m sorry.” She cooed, turning back to the speckled hen. “Sisters,” She grumbled. The little hen fluffed up protectively as she reached gently under her.
“Ouch! Pepper! That wasn’t nice.” Before she could finish, the peppered hen followed her warning peck with two more with increasing strength. “Okay, Okay, I know, but I have to do this! I wouldn’t if It was my choice.” She placed her bucket on the ground and used the freed hand to stroke the chicken comfortingly. Marta did feel bad each time, she knew it was the cycle, but she couldn’t help but imagine herself as the chicken. Protecting the precious eggs was natural. The hen calmed, watching her with wide beady eyes. The cluck radiating from the chicken was more like a growl. Long, low, and not happy. Marta drew out five eggs, one at a time, placing them carefully into the bucket.
She moved on to the next box. This chicken was bright orange with a funny crown on its head. “Good morning Gemima! how many did you make this morning?” This one put up less of a fight. As soon as Marta reached beneath her, she struggled and flapped her way from the box and waddle ran to the barrier. The funny creature hopped over and disappeared over the other side. Marta laughed aloud, gathering the eggs from the now unoccupied box with ease. “Hey! Tess!” She squealed, nearly cracking the last of the eggs in her hurry to peek over the barrier.
“What squirt,” Tess called over her shoulder.
“Why did the chicken cross the road. Marta bobbed up and down on her toes with excitement. Tess groaned.
“Uh, not again.” She rolled her eyes, back still turned to her little sister. “Why?”
“To get away from me!” Marta burst into laughter before she’d even finished the sentence.
Tess chuckled. “That’s not even a joke!”
“Well, you didn’t see what just happened.” Marta was crying from laughing, so hard to imagine the scene that had just played perfectly into the age-old question. She wiped her eyes and trotted back to her bucket, picking it up to move it slightly to the right as she made her way along the wall. “Bub! Did you have any luck this time?” Bubby was a black hen with freckles on her chest. She was the oldest of the chickens, the mother of the hen house.
Marta reached under the hen, feeling around the warm hay. She frowned. Nothing. It had been a week since she’d produced any eggs. “What’s going on, momma?” She pet the hens’ back, suddenly feeling sad. The noises coming from Bubby sounded like a lament. Marta stepped back, realizing something. Bubby had been around as long as they’d had chickens, and never once since Marta had known her had she been allowed to keep her eggs. What if it was too late? What if she couldn’t make them anymore? Tears welled up from her precious little heart.
Marta looked down at the bucket with a dozen or more treasures, then back at the motherly hen. She suddenly brightened and reached down for the contents, one at a time stuffing them under the hen. One, two, three, four… five should do it. She patted the hen on the exposed area of her back. “Our little secret.” She put her finger to her lips.
“Are you almost done over there? My bucket’s almost full!” Tessy yelled from the other room.
“Almost! I have four more.”
“Jeez, you take forever!”
“They are really pecky today!” Marta countered defensively.
“Yeah, probably that horrible joke you told.”
Marta rushed through the final boxes collecting a dozen more eggs. She turned to exit and stopped in front of Bubby to pat her head. The little chicken cooed and clucked contently. “Don’t tell the others.” She whispered.
“Don’t tell them what?” Tessa had peeped through the opening.
“Jeez! You scared me.”
Tess watched her, waiting for an answer.
“That she is my favorite, that’s all.”
“Well, now you did it. You just told them anyway, so…”
Marta stuck out her tongue.
“Hurry up, squirt. I need your bucket when you’re done talking to chickens. Let’s finish this. My fingers are freezing off.” Tessa turned to leave and spun back around, “Are you sure you got all of them?” She glanced suspiciously around the small room. “You’re not getting lazy on me, are you?”
“Yes! I checked them all.” Marta called over her shoulder as if insulted her sister would think that of her. She hoped her burning cheeks would be taken as an effect from the cold as she picked up the bucket and made her way to the barrier.
“Here, give me that so you don’t bust them climbing over, again.”
Marta handed over the pail and made her way to the other side. Together they finished up the chores, fed and watered the animals in both barns, and braved the cold back to the house.
…
For the next three weeks, Marta guarded her secret carefully. She was the first to throw on her boots and rush to the barn, each morning. Though the smaller pen had always been her responsibility, she was incredibly protective of the area. To the point, Tess might have been suspicious if it was the first time her sister had acted strangely. As it was, it wasn’t. Gradually, Marta moved the heat lamp closer to the soon-to-be mother hen’s box. She also snuck a kitchen bowl out to the hen house in her heavy jacket and turned it into a personal food dish which she left tucked under the nesting boxes.
When the two girls entered the chicken pen one crisp morning, excitement filled the small back room.
“Jeez, what’s their problem,” Tess complained.
With a burst of excitement, Marta rushed to the barrier. Her eyes glittered with joy. “Tess! Come see!” She squealed.
Tess followed after. “Woah!” In the center of the orange glow of the heat lamp were four little chicks. Three little yellow balls of fluff and one little black puff. “What the heck, Marta!” Tess looked accusatorially at her little sister. “Is this why you’ve been being such a little weirdo?”
“I wasn’t being a weirdo!” Marta defended. “But, look! They’re babies!” Bubby watched protectively. She cocked her head toward the two, looking at them with her closest beady eye.
“Bubby!” Marta glowed with pride. “Bubby, you did so so good! I knew you’d be a natural momma!”
“Marty, you know we have to tell mom and dad about this. They will want to take the chicks into the kiddy pool with some hay and lamps until they grow.”
“No!” Marta lept up. “No! Please, let’s wait for a day. Bubby hasn’t been laying eggs. I think she can’t anymore so.” Marta’s cheeks went red as her sister put her hands on her hips. “I took eggs from the other chickens,” She said quietly as if trying to keep the swap a secret from the other bitties.
“Marty, the other chickens, don’t care. They can’t understand you.”
“Yes, they can!” She argued, glaring defiantly at her sister. “Just because you don’t think so doesn’t mean that’s the way it is.”
“Don’t be silly, Marta.”
Marta looked back over her shoulder at the mother hen pecking at the hay around the circle of chicks.
“Look how happy she is. Look what a good mommy she is, Tessy. Please! Don’t take them away yet. Just.” She glanced back at her sister desperately. “Please give her a day with them?” She begged.
Tessy dropped her hands at her sides, resigned to the will of a child on a mission.
“Okay, fine, but if we get in trouble. This one is on you. I won’t protect you this time, Marta.”
Marta held out a pinky, “Deal!”
Tess laughed and hooked a pinkie of her own. They shook. “Alright, marshmallow, let’s get this done.”
Marta leaped over the barrier.
Tess watched her sister for a moment as she walked carefully and maybe a little to close in a half-circle around the little newcomers. “Marta, don’t touch them, or Bubby won’t take care of them.”
Marta threw her hands up, causing the mother hen to cluck a croaky warning and huddle in closer to her chicks.
“Okay, okay, sorry, Bubbs. I will leave you guys alone.” The girls went about their business. Before they left the barn, Tess took one final look at the small heated room. A sense of foreboding tugged at her tummy. She glanced back at her little sister skipping in circles just outside the main barn door on her way toward the house.
The following day was unseasonably warm as Marta sprinted ahead toward the massive white and gray giant housing her secret. Tess trailed behind, taking in the frosted grass. It was already melting into tiny dewdrops. The rising sun left an orange glow draped over the fields. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was fresh. It smelt like wet grass and hay. The contrast of the fresh air to the aromas of breakfast and the wood-burning stove made her head spin. She opened her eyes and followed in her sisters’ tiny boot prints. When she reached the heavy double door, she picked up her speed. Marta was sobbing.
“Marty! Marty? Are you okay?” She stopped short. Her little sister was knelt on the ground, hunched over. Her shoulders squeezed in around themselves, heaving heavily.
“Marta?” Tess didn’t have to look to know what had happened. She hopped over the barrier and made her way to Marta’s side, placing a comforting and protective hand on her shoulder. “Marty? Is it the chicks?”
Marta hiccuped and gasped, looking up at her sister with mournful unseeing eyes. She held out her little gloved hands cupped lovingly around a little black bundle of fuzz. Tess knelt down beside her. She held out her hands.
“May I?” She asked softly.
Marta squeezed the little bundle close to her heart before nodding slowly and extending it to her sister. Tessa took a closer look at the stiff, lifeless body of the petite chick. It looked as though he’d been trampled. Poor thing. She thought. She looked at Marta, tryingto think of what to console her. She simply placed her hand on Marta’s shaking shoulder when nothing came to mind.
“Did you pick out a name for him?”
Marta nodded, sniffling. She had picked up a blade of hay and was stirring the bedding around in front of her.
Tessa waited quietly, still holding the precious little parcel. “Pickles,” Marta murmured. Tess offered a small smile.
“Do. Marta, do you want to bury him? We can say some nice things and give him a proper burial?”
Marta looked at her sister with watery eyes and nodded.
“Marta, we need to tell mom and dad about the others, so the same thing doesn’t happen.” She held the little bundle out to her sister and stood up. Tess placed a hand on Marta’s shoulder comfortingly while awaiting her response. Finally, Marta sniffled and offered another slight nod.
With that, Tess took off her coat and made her way to the far corner where Bubbs was huddled over the remaining three. She collected them under protest from the mother hen into her jacket. Once they were all where they needed to be, she carefully wrapped the corners of her coat into a basket of sorts and made her way back to Marta. “Come on, Marty. Let’s get them situated so we can finish this stuff and bury Pickles.”
Marta stood shakily, still holding the petite chick. She walked the fluffy parcel to the nesting boxes, placing him gently on top. “We’ll be right back, Pickles. I promise.” Marta wiped her eyes and nose on the back of her glove and followed Tessy from the barn.
To be continued…