Clucks and Churches
2006-05-08, 4:52 p.m.

Yesterday we went to Gallatin for my little goddaughter�s First Communion, where they proved that it is possible, though not easy, to fit 1,783 people in a facility built to hold 350.

And I am happy to report that, despite all the Satan-summoning colorful euphemisms Hubby bellowed most of Saturday while working on the tree house, he did not spontaneously combust upon entry to the church. (I can�t vouch for the GroovyGuru, but we haven�t spoken to him since Saturday evening, so all bets are off.)

After the service we went to her godfather�s house. It is in the country, a happy-go-lucky tumble of animals and books and hobbies and a life-size plastic model skeleton in the corner of the kitchen, tie-dye and Birkenstocks and business suits, plantation sensibility with green shag carpet on the basement stairs, champagne and Gobstoppers and linen napkins and I liked them immediately and when they aren�t looking, I�m going to move in. Just me in the corner, never mind.

They have at least a dozen cats, one emu, and a number of very tame chickens.

Daughter burst into the house and bounced and babbled so BFF and I went out to see what had the kids so excited. They found the chickens. They fed the chickens. They held the chickens. Then Son came careening out of the coop, hapless fowl squashed between his freckled hands, its eyes wide and wings askew:

�HEY MOM IF YOU TOSS �EM HARD ENOUGH YOU CAN MAKE �EM FLY.�

And he pitched the poor hen as high as his happy noodle arms could manage, forcing her to flapflapflap in a desperate attempt to not plummet to the earth like a small sack of wet flour.

All I could think of were that the owners, although impossibly cool, were both lawyers, and this was probably all caught on some sort of PETA satellite spycam to boot.
BFF took it in stride and informed my overstimulated boy that �That�s not flying, that�s falling in style.�
Then she and I looked at each other and in a shared revelation, repeated one of the great quotes from television history:
�As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.�

The chickens did not mount a counterattack, even when Son cornered a couple between the coop and a tree, holding out a handful of feed while telling us and everyone in a 3-mile radius HEY, I�VE GOT A COUPLE OF CUSTOMERS HERE.

It took half an hour to peel children out of the chicken coop and another half-hour to cram ours into the car for the three hour ride home.

Hubby has marinated chicken to grill for supper tonight, but for some reason right now I just don�t have the heart to do it�

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