Schools Out

On the last day of the school year, we had a tradition called "clean up day" where all the students were given black garbage bags and asked to pick up trash around town. It was actually quite enjoyable. While most kids lazily strolled around with their friends, a few of us really put in the effort and made a difference in the cleanliness of our town. Once we finished, we were free for the summer. I have vivid memories of that time - clear blue skies, lush green prairies with swaying grass, cool temperatures, and the sound of wind rustling through the trees. The scent of grass, creeks, and lakes filled the air, accompanied by the buzzing of insects and the chirping of gophers. It was a truly magnificent time to be alive. The night after school ended, I could hardly sleep. I had so many activities to choose from the next day. Should I engage in a war game with my brothers or the kids from town? Or maybe go fishing? Or perhaps go horseback riding? The possibilities were endless. The following morning, I threw on my jeans and an old pair of combat boots from the Vietnam era, I grabbed a t-shirt and topped it off with a hand-me-down US army fatigue BDU top. I'm not sure where I got all this military gear, but I absolutely loved wearing it. I spent entire summers dressed in this outfit. Just as the sun was rising, I ventured out the door, not to return until dark. I hopped on my red banana bike and crossed the creek using an old wooden bridge. I then made my way to the barnyard, where I would sometimes attempt to swerve towards the chicken house and playfully chase after a chicken or two. Now, if you know anything about chickens, you'd know that the chances of actually hitting one are incredibly low, and I never managed to do so. They were too fast and too skittish to catch. Among the chickens, there was one particularly mean rooster. If you slowed down even for a moment, he would come charging at you, jumping and hopping, trying to claw you with his sharp spurs. I vividly remember my grandpa's shop on the edge of the barnyard, where I always had a project or two to work on. I would roll open the sliding door and be greeted by the scent of old oil and diesel. It was always cool inside, making it the perfect place to hang out during the hottest part of the day. One day, I stumbled upon a big bag of wheat berries in there, giving me an idea. My dad had once told us about a trick he played with chickens. He would place a kernel of wheat on the ground, followed by another about six inches away, and another after that, creating a trail that led the chicken around a corner. He would wait there with a stick in hand. As the chicken followed the trail, pecking at the kernels, its head would eventually come around the corner. That's when my dad would swiftly bring down the stick, whacking the chicken on the head. The poor bird would momentarily lose its mind, much like when a chicken is beheaded and its body continues to move for a few seconds, The effect was the same, but the chicken eventually recovers.

Intrigued by this story, I decided to try it out for myself. I carefully laid out a trail of wheat kernels near the closest chickens, crouching around the corner, waiting for the moment of surprise. As I listened to the clucking getting louder, I knew a chicken was about to fall victim to my prank. But to my horror, I realized it wasn't just any chicken - it was the mean old rooster! Both the rooster and I were equally startled. I quickly scrambled backward, trying to escape, but the rooster recovered and chased after me. I sprinted back to the house as fast as my legs could carry me, with that infuriated rooster hot on my heels. I suppose it was karma reminding me to leave the chickens alone.