This morning, I fought a chicken for some eggs. I went outside to feed the chickens after sunup. Chicken Chicken usually greets me at the door, but this morning, she was not there. A feeling of dread came over me. Afraid Chicken Chicken, who is quite old, might have come to a sudden end, I opened the coop door and found Chicken Chicken very much alive. She leaned back and revealed an egg, then three more. I was reaching for that egg when the small, feisty black chicken flew at me, landed in the coop and and began pecking at one of the eggs.

This is about a century of one family’s arts, crafts and major awards.

I picked up that little chicken, whose name is either Patty, Maxene or LaVerne, whereupon she pecked me ineffectually. Weeks ago I realized that the pecking of a tiny chicken didn’t actually hurt, so I could pick her up and put her down in the run. Anyway, peck! peck! peck! Chicken kerfuffle! Wings and feathers everywhere! I gathered the eggs, closed the coop and set the eggs where Andie would find them. Then I went to work and described to my crying co-workers the reason I was covered with chicken coop pine shavings.

No one seemed surprised.