I grew up on a farm during the 50’s and 60’s. Although my dad was successful in his farming endeavor, money was tight. Mother raised chickens and sold eggs to supplement the income. And as my brother and I got older, we were given daily chores to do after we got home from school. One of those responsibilities was to feed / water the chickens and to gather their eggs. You’d have thought we had some kind of bodily affliction the way we procrastinated to keep from doing that particular chore. So no big surprise, it was usually dark by the time we got to the chicken house. Lucky for us there was a light in the building, even though it didn’t illuminate the place very well.
One fateful evening – seemingly like any other – we went out to do our chicken chores at the usual late hour. It was my brother’s turn to do the feeding and watering while I gathered the eggs. The problem with my job was that the eggs were difficult to see. The dim lighting only succeeded in casting deep shadows, effectively keeping the nests shrouded in darkness. And as I was reaching into one of the few remaining nests, I saw a sudden movement. My hand recoiled, a bloodcurdling scream escaped my lips, and the egg bucket fell to the ground. It was a rat–the largest rat I had ever seen! It was at least 6 inches long, from my perspective.
As I continued to scream, the chickens began to panic and flail about wildly, creating a mountain of dust. I quickly dashed out of the chicken house, leaving the pandemonium in my wake. Once I reached the safety of home, I collected myself and hurried back, just in time to find the chickens fluttering out into the countryside. It seemed I had accidently left the door wide open in my haste to escape! Fortunately, my brother, who had observed my reaction with much amusement, helped me get the chickens back into their abode; he even retrieved the egg bucket for me. Amazingly, very few eggs were cracked or broken because the bucket had landed upright.
From that day forward my portion of the chicken labor was completed before dark. I never saw that rat again and not one single family member ever said anything about encountering a six-inch rat in the chicken house. Perhaps its fright was as great as mine and it found a way outside–never to return!!
Hey SusieQ,
I never heard that story before. I always heard the one about being pecked while gathering the eggs.
Hi Jim,
Thanks for checking out the site. If I would sit down and think, there are probably several more chicken stories that could be told.
That is quite an interesting story. What I’m about to share is not nearly as frightening, but I remember well a story about a particular aunt of mine who fortunately did not see a live mouse scurrying around the floor at at pizza place near Denali National Park. If she had seen it, there is no doubt a similar blood-curdling scream would have escaped her lips and she would have been dancing on the table top. I recall subtly bringing the mouse to my brother and uncle’s attention, who were sitting with me at the pizza place, and was cautioned (perhaps threatened is a better word) not to say a word about it to my aunt. I often wonder the commotion that might have ensued had word of the small, but fearsome, scavenger leaked out to the pizza place patrons.
I had forgotten the story about the mouse and a famous pizza spot … probably because it was so “horrifying” that I psychologically blotted it from my memory.
Although, now that I have been reminded, I’m ready for some pizza. 