August 25, 2014 – This situation with Charlotte receiving unsolicited gifts in the mail from an unknown source is getting to me. Is it a suitor? Is it a stalker? Is it a rooster? What if it’s another chicken pulling a gag on her? What if the t-shirt with the rubber decal of a lion and the porcelain chipmunk – the items she’s received so far – are equipped with recording devices and micro cameras and the sender is picking up valuable information about our flock? Lottie has been over the moon with the special attention she’s been getting, but it’s driving me nuts! I want to make sure that no one gets hurt and I need something else in my tool box to help break this case wide open.
“Why don’t you apply for a detective’s license,” Waffles suggested. “You can take a course online and when you’re done, they’ll give you a little wallet with a badge and your picture in it. You can go on stakeouts and set up traps. You’ll be able to walk into any establishment and ask questions without them booting you out. A detective demands respect and answers. You already have night vision goggles and binoculars. I’m sure there’s a catalog you can find that sells other tools of the trade.”
Wow. Me; a detective with my own badge! I did work well with the authorities on the international Dumpling Longfeather case, and I am a scientist with a quick mind. Yesterday, I was ready to give it all away to become a bus driver. Am I fickle or well-rounded? I’ll go with the latter.
“You’re right!” I said slapping Waffles on the back. “I’m going to get a private detective’s license and solve this mystery for Charlotte. I will be the shoeless gumshoe! (Except for wintertime when I’ll be wearing snow boots and my snorkel jacket.)”
“Do you mind if I take the course along with you?” asked Waffles. “We could make quite the team…”
I knew Waffle’s real dream was to be a standup comic, but we balance many hats in the poultry world. She’s a good egg and I took no time telling her my answer.
“Put it there, partner!” I said extending a wing.
Once we shook on it we set about the business of finding an online course. Our wireless connection was spotty.
“Go to the library,” Wilma ordered upon hearing the two of us grumble in frustration.
I would have preferred waiting at home until an Internet connection was made, but Waffles was gung-ho and so I relented. We climbed into the pickup and headed down the road to the library. My heart longed for Lola, the pleasant librarian, but my psychic mind saw only one face.