the original chicken whisperer Story by Lee Title by Gene


Cousin SloMo invited me to his home. Our intention was to talk of spiritual matters. It was 5:30 am when I arrived; the sun had not yet begun to cast its morning glow. I was led through the house and to the back yard and we milled about, my host telling of pleasant moments spent in this, his favorite spot, and we quietly watched the rising sun. The birds sang. And the larger birds clucked. I turned my head and met a barred rock clucker. “That one has a surly attitude” I was told. “She seems to like you. She thinks I am her parent and likes sitting on my lap.” He went on;”be careful; she will peck you.” We finally seated ourselves in a garden area and we returned to the subject of spiritual matters, primarily about the miracles that occur when working in service to others. “Ouch”, I declared. The barred rock clucker had pecked my ankle. “I told you so.” My attacker looked up at SloMo. Slomo’s lips moved but I didn’t hear him say anything. And the bird who thought Slomo was her parent jumped into her parents lap. We talked for a time; mostly I listened and when we came to a lull, SloMo’s lap sitter looked him in the eye and hypnotized him. Slomo quietly moved his lips again. (Uh, what did I miss?) She then jumped out of Slomo’s lap, pecked my ankle again and tried to hypnotize me (everyone knows that its bad manners to hypnotize guests but what can you expect from a dumb cluck?). I let her know that I was her friend, slapped my hand on my thigh in response to which the black and white feathered wizard of Slomoland jumped into my lap. And at that very moment Slomo returned to the dawning of morning memories of moments before and inquired “Uh, what did I miss?”


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