Talons, and Wings and Beaks....oh MY!

Babiest girl is working on her Silver award for Girl Scouts - so on this, the 12th day of the Month of Gratitude, I am thankful for my quick reflexes. It started out happily enough - a trip to a neighboring town with Babiest Girls Award Partner and her Dad - the girls are lifelong friends, and I can barely remember a time when we did not know this family. Excitement was in the air, for this was the day we were purchasing the Chickens! The Silver Award is the second highest Award in Girl Scouts, and these two girls have been planning and working for months. The project? They  will raise Chickens (Not the baby kind....more like the teenager kind) until they are laying well, and then give the Chickens, the coop, the fencing for the yard and a detailed care guide (written by the girls) to a halfway house here in our town, providing the residents with a fresh and mostly free source of protein (the eggs, not the chickens themselves), with the added bonus of giving them something to care for. And best of all, we will be raising the Chickens here...at our house! Babiest Girl has been delirious with excitement - raising Chickens is a dream come true for her, and I must admit - I was really digging the idea. I mean, we make our own laundry detergent, I bake our bread, I drive a car that has a bumper sticker that reads "Hippie Chicks Rule"....I had some pretty groovy visions of living the pastoral city life, with Chickens softly clucking, and fresh eggs free for the gathering. Spirits were high as we pulled into the parking lot of the Feed and Seed.....and then, it hit me. Chickens are really just great big birds....have I mentioned that I have an Avian Fear rooted in Childhood Trauma? My sister, 10 years my senior had this bird....a nasty blue parakeet named Tweetie (How clever...I mean, really!). She would take the predator out of his cage, stroke his plumage, and instruct him to "Find Kelley". He would zoom around the house until he found my hiding place, where I was bleeding fear, and he would fly into my face and peck at me until my Mother came running. The happiest day of my young life was the morning we found that feathered monster dead in his cage, belly up, feet pointing to the heavens. It is proof of my great love for College Boy that I allowed the same Sister to give him birds (that's right - plural) for his Birthday one year.... That didn't go too well.... but I digress. As we perused the Chickens available for purchase, I was mesmerized by their feet....they have....well, Talons.....gigantic ones. And wings....with quite a large span.....and......Beaks - the better to peck you with. In my heart, I started pulling for the little green and bluish ones - they didn't look quite so menacing, but as luck would have it, they were adolescent Roosters - we, of course, needed hens. Which is how we came to purchase the reddish ones - with the biggest talons of all. Being the selfless Mother that I am, when it came time to select the birds, I let the girls stand right up by the coops, so THEY could have a good look, and select just the right Hens....I stayed back a little...I know....I'm a giver. The salesman opened the door, to grab the first one, and to everyone's surprise (But mostly to mine), a chicken literally flew the coop and headed straight for my head....I mean, what do I have?! Some kind of aura that says to birds....OVER HERE....PECK THIS ONE'S EYE'S OUT?! But I was ready, with my best duck and cover move....the old reflexes still in working order.The two girls laughingly sprang into action, and chased down the offending creature. Babiest Girl's Award partner cradled the beast to her chest and murmured "There, there...you're OK". Well....I'm glad the dadgummed Chicken was OK, because I sure wasn't. I excused myself with a vague, "Oh, I want to go inside and buy some apples" - leaving the others to get the Dear little things settled into the cage for the ride back to my house......MY HOUSE?! Holy Cow, what was I thinking? I peered into the cage as it was being loaded into the car, and made my inventory, making a clear assessment of the danger I had placed my family in. Talons.....Check. Big Flappy Wings.....Check. Beaks.....wait a minute......these babies have had their beaks shaved down....hooty hoo! That's one in my favor.....but hold on....what's that you say? The beaks will grow back?....great. As we pulled into the driveway, the girls decided that the most pressing task at hand was naming the little darlings...So, as the Dad set to installing the heat light in the coop, the girls sat on a bale of hay inside the fencing, with the Chickens clucking and scratching in the dirt at their feet. My request for the first name was instantly honored, so the prettiest of the three was named Abigail (a nice, friendly name with the hopes that her disposition will match)....Baby Girl joined us in the yard as soon as we got home, and she claimed the honor, as the oldest sister, of naming the next one.....Falcon - due to the size of her TALONS.....Babiest girl and her partner named the third......Kesha......just because. Kesha appears to have significant suicidal tendencies, coupled with a dumb streak a mile long. Just as I was starting to relax a bit(I was standing OUTSIDE of the fencing, after all) - feeling as if my pastoral daydreams might actually be within reach (as long as somebody else takes care of the birds....), Kesha flew into the deer netting that we strung over the fencing, and found the only spot large enough for her massive wings and razor sharp tallons to emerge.....right where I was standing, and for the second time in less than an hour, I once again marveled that my reflexes were that of a 10 year old, that my voice was in prime screeching condition, and that my knees are not really as bad as I thought, because they hauled my fluffy carcass swiftly away from Kesha.....the Kamikaze Chicken. The bird was caught, adjustments were made to the netting, and as of this moment, our little flock are snug in their coop - nesting away - oblivious to the havoc they have wreaked on my last nerve......as for me - let me just say, that there is not enough Coca Cola and Chocolate in the world to soothe THIS kind of stress.....but I rest secure in the knowledge that my reflexes remain top notch.....something to be thankful for, indeed.