May 22, 2014 – I had the talk with Mom today. She was sitting at the patio table working on a writing project when I pulled a chair up next to her and sat down. As I feared, she hadn’t thought another minute about the flock going to Nova Scotia. When I initially told her days ago about the vacation invitation from Dumpling Longfeather, she thought I was making it up. So I set about the task of setting her straight.
“Wait a minute. This Dumpling Doolittle. She’s a chicken?”
“Longfeather. And yes, she’s the photographer that took our group portrait last year.”
“I do love that picture. We should have a second one done to include the ducks and bantam chicks. Why is she inviting all of you to Canada?”
“She’s having a gallery showing of her work. We supplied the moonshine that she’s serving to loosen up potential investors. She flew to New Hampshire at the beginning of the month to pick up the hooch and while she was here she invited us to her art show. She’s sending her private jet to pick us up and we’ll be staying at a hotel next to her studio. Dumpling is paying for everything! She wants us to stay a few extra days so she can show us around Nova Scotia.”
“You know I have family there, right,” Mom questioned.
“Yes. You could come with us…” I offered in a most persuasive tone.
“I’d love to, but I can’t right now – not with the chicks still in the brooder and Violet not quite at 100%. Maybe in the fall. Hmmm. I’ll tell you what. If you promise to check in with the family, I’ll okay it… but only for a couple of days, understood?!”
“Understood. WHOOO HOOOO!!!!”
I jumped on to the table and wrapped my wings around Mom’s neck.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I pecked her face lovingly. Then her laptop screen caught my eye.
“There’s going to be a piccolo festival?”
“Next weekend at the bandstand.”
“But I’ll be in Canada next weekend! What am I going to do?!”
“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” Mom said closing up her computer.
Later in the day I sat on the back steps of our coop contemplating my dilemma. I played a Christmas song on my piccolo as the other chickens filed by me with their contributions to the suitcase.
Why must life be filled with so many choices?