September 24, 2014 – The girls and I were standing in the grove having a lively discussion as to whether a pumpkin could actually be made into a coach and mice turned into horses, when a nubby, oversized tire came zooming down our road, hit a pothole, and veered straight for us.
Peaches was the first hen to spot the runaway tire.
“INCOMING!” she screamed, pushing Charlotte into a pile of leaves.
Wilma grabbed her girls, Waffles and Betty, by the tail feathers and tossed them out of the way in the nick of time. The rest of us fended for ourselves, jumping back as the tire careened into the base of a pine tree, recoiled with a shudder, and then fell on its side as silent as a rock.
“Where in the name of chicken fat did that come from?!” Addie exclaimed.
We walked to the edge of the street expecting to see a 3-wheeled vehicle scraping along the pavement, but there was no traffic at all on our quiet little road.
“How did that just happen?” I wondered out loud.
“It’s the strangest thing!” said Sawyer, placing her wings firmly on her hips.
“Did it fall from the sky?” asked Charlotte looking up to the clouds.
I saw no indication of space junk barreling toward Earth.
“I suppose it’s possible,” I reasoned. “I would tend to believe it came from a car, but since there isn’t one anywhere in sight…”
I stepped closer to examine the tire. It smelled like hot rubber.
“Wait!” Peaches instructed. “There’s a message written on the sidewall!”
Sawyer leaned in and traced the words with her wing tip.
“She’s right! It spells out GOOD YEAR!”
A collective “Ooh” and “ahh” followed the interesting revelation.
“I think Charlotte might be on to something,” I stated. “I bet this is a message from the Universe! After all, we ARE having a good year!”
“Yes, and we’re doing good things,” added Emaline. “I agree with Happy and Charlotte.”
“If we’re all doing so hot, then why did the universe drop a 30 lb. tire out of the sky to make chicken jerky out of us?” Wilma argued.
She had a point. It was a noteworthy manner in which to deliver a message.
We decided not to dwell on the unknown but to accept the compliment that was clearly intended for our flock. We dragged the tire to a sturdy oak tree and tied around its largest branch, a rope that Mom had stored in the shed. Then we slipped the rope through the rubber Cheerio, successfully turning our love note from the cosmos into a delightful swing. I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of doing something like this before now.
Meanwhile, Wilma placed orange safety cones along the road in front of our property. I think helmets would have been more practical, but to each their own.