Chapter 4
Jenny stopped by the Horse and Hay Feed Store as it was closest, bought a DIY chicken coop and run kit – she didn’t realize they made those – two hoppers (one for food, one for water) and a bag of feed. $350 later, she was headed home. Sir Lancelot was going to be one spoiled rooster. She hoped he appreciated it.
Said rooster was surprisingly quiet during the drive, just the occasional cluck or two, and she began to wonder if something was wrong with him. After all the money she’d just spent, she hoped not. She kept glancing at the crate in the back seat, hoping her new pet didn’t up and die on her before she put the coop together.
If she got it put together, that is. The man that rang her up said it was a one-day job, but it was already afternoon. Maybe she should’ve taken Andy up on his offer to help. But what help could he be, unless he could see in the dark. He was still working the festival, and as far as she knew had to finish out the day. Besides, he’d said something about having to help with the clean up the next day – wait for him, and she might be waiting until Monday, when she had to go back to classes.
She rolled her eyes and kept driving.
When she got home, she unloaded the car, transported everything to the backyard, including Sir Lancelot, then went and got her tool box – what used to be her dad’s. She didn’t see any other vehicles in the Victorian’s double-wide driveway, so she knew the hammering wouldn’t disturb the neighbors she had yet to meet. She just hoped their first meeting wasn’t an angry knock on her door to complain about her noisy rooster – he was quiet now, but roosters didn’t stay that way.
Three hours later, she had most of it done – the kit was designed so even a city-bred person could manage it given the proper tools. The only thing missing was that she’d forgotten to get pine shavings for it, which meant going back to the feed store. But it was Saturday, and they and their competitors were both closed by the time she arrived.
When Jenny made it back home, it was growing dark. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait one more night to move into your new house,” she told Sir Lancelot. “But in the meantime, you might as well enjoy a little freedom.” She picked up the crate and carried it into the storage shed where she’d placed the chicken feed.
She imagined the little building had been a single-car garage once. Now it had a door with a diamond-paned window, and two other windows, one on either side of the structure. She reached up and pulled the cord hanging from the light in the middle of the ceiling. It illuminated their surroundings with a soft glow, and Sir Lancelot clucked nervously.
“Now how about some dinner?” she asked the bird. “That, and it’s about time I took a good look at you.” She carefully unlatched and opened the lid of the crate. The rooster was docile, and she was able to reach in and pick him up. He struggled a little, but she knew how to hold him so he didn’t get loose and she didn’t suffer any scratches. Once she set him down, it could be quite the ordeal to catch him – it all depended on how tame he really was. This was the only way to find out.
As soon as Jenny set Sir Lancelot on his feet, he ran to the other side of the shed. “Bet you’re glad to be out of that crate,” she commented.
She slipped outside, filled the water hopper with the garden hose, brought it back in and set it down. She put some feed into the other hopper and placed them against one wall as Sir Lancelot lapped the shed. The second she stepped away from them, he made his way to the feed hopper and began to peck away.
She shook her head. “I should have asked the Finding Forever folks to keep you until I got your coop and run ready.” She went to the door and peeked outside. Maybe she should finish it, even if did mean working by flashlight – she had one with a head strap. Better Sir Lancelot stay in his coop tonight than the shed. With a sigh she went back outside, leaving him to his own devices.
Only then did she remember the pile of homework waiting for her in the house. She’d been so wrapped up with her new pet, she’d forgotten all about it. But it had been fun building the coop, even if it was from a kit.
Thoughts of working on the ranch with her father washed over her, and she realized how much she missed him. Six and a half years was a long time, but one never stopped thinking about a passed loved one. The day her mother went, she’d be devastated.
Jenny brushed a tear from her eye, gathered her tools and put them back in their box, reminding her of Daddy all over again. She took one last look at the shed, another at the coop, sighed and trudged into the house to tackle her homework.
~*~
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Jenny opened one sleepy eye.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The other popped open. “Oh good grief,” she groaned and turned over. The clock on her nightstand read 4:15, and she tossed an arm over her eyes. “Sir Lancelot!” She knew she should’ve left him in the shed. But for some reason, it made her feel like a bad parent. She already understood the late Mabel White’s viewpoint. She’d managed to catch him after a good ten minutes’ chase, get him back in his crate and bring him into the house.
Hopefully the neighbors couldn’t hear him. She certainly could – far too well. But he’d only crowed a couple of times. Maybe he’d be quiet again. She took a moment to listen. Ah, silence, she thought to herself and burrowed deeper under the covers.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Jenny pulled a pillow over her head. “Why?” Why, indeed. Whatever had possessed her to bring that bird home? Oh wait – a brilliant smile and a pair of wonderful blue eyes. Andy.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
If she ever saw the man again, she’d kill him.
Oh, stop, she scolded herself. This wasn’t Andy’s fault – he was just doing his job. Besides, how many people around here wanted a pet chicken? Didn’t he say the rest of the deceased woman’s animals had gone to local farmers? Most farmers didn’t talk to their poultry, hold them, pet them and tell them how wonderful they were –
Cock-a doodle-doo! “Noooo!” Jenny moaned into the pillow. But what did she expect, bringing him into the house? He was a rooster – naturally he’d crow at some point. She just wished he’d waited until about seven in the morning instead of 4:15. Better yet, wait until nine or ten – it was Sunday, after all.
Three crows later, Jenny got up, went downstairs to the kitchen and glared at the crate on the floor. “You’re moving into your coop today. I hope you enjoyed your evening under my roof. Tonight you’ll be under yours.”
Sir Lancelot cocked his little head, peering at her with one beady eye.
“And don’t wake the neighbors,” she advised, then suddenly realized he might have done that already. She looked at the kitchen wall, then at the ceiling. The house was old and probably not well-insulated, at least not the inside walls. But then, considering she’d hardly heard the neighbors, maybe it was better than she assumed.
Whoever had subdivided the two-story Victorian had split it straight down the middle. Each side consisted of two floors, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living/dining room combo and a kitchen. The utilities had been modernized, but the rest of house had kept its 19th-century charm. And it was close to both downtown and the college – she could easily walk to either. Unfortunately, she tended to oversleep and often ended up driving.
Judging from the sounds of things, however, she’d be able to walk a lot more often.
Jenny debated whether or not to make coffee or put Sir Lancelot outside first. Did her neighbors attend church? She’d never paid attention. Maybe she could put him in the shed for a few hours, then transfer him to his new home. She remembered Mr. Rickles crowing throughout the day – not all the time, but sometimes. Other roosters her family had over the years were much the same. There was no set pattern.
With a sigh she started the coffee – she’d worry about Sir Lancelot after she enjoyed a cup. “I suppose I should thank you,” she grumbled. “At least now I’ll get an early start on my homework.”
And she did, right after two cups of coffee, two pieces of toast and evicting the rooster from the kitchen. She moved the crate to the shed, figuring she’d put him in his new home after buying and spreading the shavings. In the meantime, he had the run of the shed.
She started on her remaining homework, and before she knew it, it was midmorning. Jenny stretched. She’d finished her assigned reading and written half of an essay. It was definitely time for a break.
She poured a third cup of coffee and took it with her to Horse and Hay, which thankfully was open Sunday mornings, then hauled the bag of pine shavings home. It did wonders for her car’s interior – much better than any air freshener.
Back home, she spread the pine shavings, placed the water and feed hoppers in the run, and finally installed Sir Lancelot. She sighed as she watched him scratch at the shavings, then move onto the patch of grass she’d left for him. After a few minutes she smiled. “How is it a silly bird can make me feel so sentimental? Do you have any idea how much you remind me of my dad?”
Sir Lancelot clucked a few times in response, then ignored her. She laughed, went back inside and returned to her essay.
By the time she was done with it, it was 6 p.m. “Good grief, no wonder I’m hungry …”
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
She noticed it was the first she’d heard from him since she’d moved him into his new home – and how muffled the sound was from inside the house. Good – he was less likely to wake up the neighbors before sunrise, or any other time. Still, her neighbors might be light sleepers. She slept like a rock, but knew not everyone did.
Lancelot crowed a few more times, prompting her to get off the couch and go to the kitchen’s sliding glass door. She opened it and poked her head out. “Do you want me to come pet you?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
“I’d like you to keep that bird quiet!” a man growled in reply.
Jenny cringed. Oh great, the neighbor. She might as well get this over with. She went outside and headed for the chicken coop, calling to the mystery man once she was outside. “I’m sorry if he’s disturbing you,” she told the six-and-a-half-foot fence. The smell of meat barbecuing wafted over it on a cloud of blue smoke, and her stomach rumbled in response.
“Just so he doesn’t do it all day long. Some of us get up early in the morning!”
He sounded like an older man. She had a sudden image of a crabby, white-haired codger banging on her door with a shotgun, intent on barbecuing Sir Lancelot. “Again, sorry!” What else could she say? It’s not like she could tell a rooster to shut up.
She heard another male voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He sounded like he was inside his kitchen, speaking to the old man in the backyard. Was he asking about Sir Lancelot? She hoped not.
More smoke floated over the fence, reminding her how hungry she was. She gave Sir Lancelot a warning wag of her finger and went inside to find something to eat. Thankfully, he kept quiet the rest of the evening. Maybe the old man roasting meat made him nervous.
The next day, her new pet waited until 5:30 a.m. to sound off. At least that’s when she woke - who knew how long he’d been crowing by the time she did? But no one banged on the wall or her front door, so maybe they didn’t hear him. After all the money she’d spent on the poor thing, she didn’t want to have to get rid of him.
She got up, dressed, checked Sir Lancelot, then made herself some breakfast. She usually got up around seven but didn’t mind being early today – she wanted to put some finishing touches on her homework. Besides, now she could walk to the campus. Thanks to her new friend, she didn’t have an excuse to be late.
She was, however, late getting home after her last class. She set her books down and went straight for the coop. “Good evening, fair knight,” she cooed. “How’s my boy today?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”