A Hostile Transfer

Please join me in welcoming my guest writer. Bob was the Flock Manager for the Silver-Orp Division of Casa Smith-Coushatta, until a recent hostile transfer to Assistant Flock Manager at Paradise Plantation. He is the grandson of Rosco, a previous CCO trainee at Paradise Plantation, before being demoted to a Flock Manager at Casa Smith-Coushatta.


* * *


“It was a livin’ nightmare, I tell ya. A real livin’ nightmare! Here I was, all snuggled up with some real Rubenesque women. Gorgeous women, I tell ya. Just gorgeous! I should never have closed my eyes, but I did. And I was dreamin’ about waking up in the morning, and all I needed to do as Flock Manager. Leadin’ my ladies to the sweet champagne of dew, dripping off of green, green grass. Offerin’ them oyster shell, and the delectable bits of golden yellow corn. I tell ya, it’s only the best for my ladies. With one eye cracked to check the time, I knew I had at least another half hour before the workday started. And then, BAM! BAM, I tell ya!



Before I could sound a warning crow, a light flashed in my eyes and I was yanked up and shoved in some metal cage! I mean, there I was, nestled in between Red and Carrie Jean, all warm and snuggly. Next thing I knew, I was lookin’ at bars. Before long, Red and Carrie Jean was shoved in this jail cell with me. Then came seven other of my ladies, and. I thought about escaping. Before I could, the cell door slammed shut and was wired in place. We were trapped. Trapped, I tell ya! I had to stand by and watch as the rest of my ladies were shoved in another cell.

The sun wasn’t even awake yet, and I didn’t know if it would – since I was crammed in this little cell so tight I couldn’t even crow. Not being able to crow? That is a sad day for a rooster. A very sad day, I tell ya. Then both the cells were put in a big jailhouse, and I listened to the slamming of the big bars. From all I could see, there was just no way out.



My biggest fear was finally realized. I tell ya, we often stood outside in the breakroom, and watching as these big trucks went by – carrying at least a million wire jail cells. All them prisoners were squawking and flapping their wings, just beggin’ for release. It gives my feathers the shivers just thinking about it. As we would watch, I would tell my ladies the stories that my Grandpappy would tell me about his scare with being in jail.


It happened many years ago. Grandpappy was being groomed for the CCO (Chief Coop Officer) position for a place called Paradise Plantation. His daddy was the head Rooster in charge, with three Flock Managers that reported to him. His flock was around seventy-five, and he ruled that Coop with an iron spur. Grandpappy told stories of being trained to battle dogs, cats and even once a huge raccoon. A raccoon, I tell ya! I’ve never seen one, but I hear they are vicious critters. And then one day, he heard a noise behind him, and before he could jump, he was caught up in big giant human hands.

Next thing he knew, he was in a jail cell and being hauled off. His only comfort was that he wasn’t the only one. If he was goin’ down, he would be in great company. Grandpappy said it felt like a life time, but eventually his cell was pulled out of the big jailhouse and they were released. The human told the group that they had been transferred to a new company, then introduced them all to their office space. They were shown where the water cooler was and the breakroom.



The Situation at Hand

Enough about Grandpappy. Back to my story. Just like in Grandpappy’s story, our cell was pulled out of the big jailhouse. One by one, we were released from the cage and put in a fenced area of Paradise Plantation. The human jailer offered some words of comfort, tellin’ us where things were, but we were all too busy checkin’ out the new digs. I counted as each of my ladies was released, and it wasn’t until the last one joined us that I breathed a sigh of relief. Beaulah, now, she got a little bit even. My sweet girl escaped, but instead of hitting the ground, she flew into the big jailhouse and cowered behind the cell with all the other ladies in it. She got caught, but before she did, Beaulah, uh, shall we say, ‘left a little present’ for the jailer. Serves the human right.



I scoped things out. Everything seemed normal, except that there were a bunch of teenagers in a jail cell that was up in the air. I counted twenty-three, but couldn’t get any of them to tell me what they had done to get incarcerated. They were too busy screaming somethin’ about teenage rights, Injustice, cruelty to Juveniles, and demanding parole. I continued to scan the area.  A twinkle caught my eye about five feet away. Corn!! At least my ladies and I wouldn’t starve to death. And not too far from there was water. Good. Maybe we would survive this hostile transfer. I started a talkin’ to my ladies, soft and sweet like, and eased my way over.



Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the human moved to the other side of the yard. Just as I was about to grab me a kernel, BAM! This monster-sized solid white chicken came screaming out of the big coop! Monster-size I tell ya! The funniest lookin’ chicken I ever did see. He had to be three times my size, which was bad enough. But he had the weirdest orange beak. Not pointed like ours, but long and round on the end. That bird was wearing the evilest lookin’ grin I ever did see. Evil, I tell ya! And you shoulda seen those feet! Bright orange. Flat, and all stuck together. I don’t know what kind of shoes he had on, but he needs to take ‘em off. Shoot. He can’t even walk in them – instead, he waddles!



I shoulda been payin’ attention, instead of trying to figure him out. If I had been, I woulda seen there were three of them weird lookin’ chickens. Two females came tearin’ outta the coop. Then, two more normal lookin’ ladies eased down the hatch like runway models. Oh, my, yes! Yes, I tell ya! They were some gorgeous dames! I headed their way, just to introduce myself, ya know, but before I could get close, those weird lookin’ chickens came gunnin’ for me. All I could think about was protectin’ my own ladies, so I ran to the other side and gathered everyone up.



Hoowee! I am worn out. It isn’t easy transferring to a new company, but the decision has been made. I am gonna make my Grandpappy proud. He was bein’ groomed to be the CCO, and I am determined to proudly follow in his footsteps. Other than that monster white rooster, I haven’t spotted any other flock managers hanging around. Maybe that’s why I’m here. Maybe this isn’t just a hostile transfer, but about to become a hostile takeover!!! And I am just the Rooster for the job, I tell ya. Just the perfect Rooster. I ain’t afraid of Monster Goofy Chicken. I just know I can take him.

Oh, crap. I gotta go. One of the female monster chickens has one of my girls by the neck. See ya. I gotta fly!

Hey! You overgrown goofy chicken! Let go of Roberta!!!!

Until the next time,
~ Bob
(future) CCO – Paradise Plantation

Julie Murphree is a blogger, newspaper columnist, and speaker on all things ‘Living a Simple Life on the Farm’. She is the author of \\\'The Farm Wife – Living a Simple Life on the Farm. She and her husband have 60 acres in NW Louisiana where they actively work on living as sustainable as possible.

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