April 15, 2014 – We chickens are doing our best to run a legitimate business, so I filed taxes today on behalf of The Happy Chicken Brewing Company. Last year marked our premier as backyard entrepreneurs. We didn’t get underway until the fourth quarter, which made this year’s paperwork fairly easy. We’ll need an accountant next year, for certain. I’ll have to ask around the grain store for recommendations. Some of us in the flock have a good head for numbers, but this revenue recording business is for the birds. Wait a minute, we are birds! Hmm. I’ll leave that thought for when I’m on my thinking log.
I didn’t make any mention in the official papers as to our moonshining operations. We’re keeping our hooch handiwork to a local, under-the-radar level. Some things are meant to be more customary than fiduciary, if you know what I mean. Besides, there’s an adrenaline rush that goes along with midnight delivery runs that would disappear if we made the potent potable portion of our business public.
Sawyer and I hitched a ride with Mom to the post office to mail the returns. Before she started the car for home, I asked if we could handle the driving honors and show her how well we do. I was blown away when she said yes. She was impressed with our ability and proudly acknowledged our skill, but laughed the entire way back to the house. She couldn’t get over the double takes of passersby. She smiled and waved enthusiastically while muttering something about messing with their minds. The stares don’t bother us anymore – we’re used to getting looks. When my wings aren’t busy holding the wheel at 2 and 10, I wave enthusiastically, too. But one day, I drifted a little too close to the sign for the fishing pond, and now Sawyer gets jittery if I take my wings out of position while the car is in motion. I can’t blame her. I did the same thing once when it was my turn to work the pedals. There was a catchy tune on the radio and I couldn’t help but snap my beak and clap my wings to the beat. That little mishap nearly sent us flying through the front window of Mr. Reece Eding’s Hair Salon for Men. Sawyer was screaming through the windshield, which must have been an amusing site for someone sitting in a barber’s chair. I fully admit that I had lost focus and slacked off, which is why Sawyer runs the pedals under the dash on most of our motorized outings.
Today, we were both focused and flawless. When we pulled into our driveway, Mom sat for a few seconds, shaking her head and smiling. I’d love to know what she was thinking, but it was raining and a puddle of worms caught my eye. I’ll ask her about it another day over a warm cup of chamomile tea and a piping hot blueberry and sunflower seed muffin.