"Definitely."
He sighs and opens the door, closing it quickly so none of the chickens escape. I watch through the mesh, happy that they can't peck at me from in there. I have to admit the chickens are kind of beautiful. They come in a range of colors from shiny, jet black to white with dark speckles to deep rusty red. There's a heightened excitement when Dad enters, and several of them start following him to the trough where he deposits the food scraps.
Chickens might not be as bad as other birds, particularly because they don't fly high enough to shit on your head or poke your eyes out. They also seem more concerned about pecking the ground than bothering Dad.
"See? They're harmless," he calls out.
I certainly don't want Seth hearing I'm afraid of the chickens. He'd enjoy that information way too much. Maybe it's time I face my fears. I swing open the door of the pen and right at that moment, two of the birds get into a squabble and start squawking and fluttering about. It's like they know I've let my guard down and want to remind me that they're not docile creatures after all.
"They're not going to hurt you," Dad says, oblivious to the danger he is in right now.
"No, thanks!" I slam the door shut again.
"Do you like their coop? Seth built it for us."
"Lovely," I say. "It's bigger than the apartment Hugh and I shared after college."
Dad laughs. "It's probably nicer inside, too. That place was a shithole. Remember your third roommate, Terrence the mouse?"
"Sometimes I miss Terrence. He was a better roommate than Marly.” I think back to that first apartment Hugh and I rented in the East Village in our early twenties. “We had fun living in that place, even though it should have been condemned. We were so happy to be out on our own that we overlooked all the bad stuff.”
“I can’t believe you guys slept in bunk beds.”
“There was one tiny bedroom so we didn’t have much choice.”
It’s funny how I look back on those times as some of the happiest in my life. Hugh and I would talk late into the night, sharing secrets that probably would not have been told if we hadn't been sharing a room.
"You've got to get over this crazy fear of birds." Dad exits the chicken run and heads to the barn. "I have an idea."
"That's okay, Dad. I’m fine with avoiding birds for the rest of my life.”
Whatever magic he thinks he's going to find in there isn't going to work.
He returns with his hands full of a brown, grainy substance.
"Mealworm," he says. "They love it. Come on in and sprinkle some on the ground. You guys will be friends for life."
I look more closely at what he's holding and, yes, those are indeed dried worms. Not only am I not going into the chicken death match arena, I'm not doing it while holding dead bugs.
"Nope," I say. "I'm good."
"They're not going to hurt you. They're really gentle creatures."
Gentle creatures with talons and beaks who lunge at you when you're least expecting it.
"It's day one. Let me work up to it."
Dad looks disappointed, but he doesn't press. He makes one last visit to the chickens to drop the mealworm for them. As expected, they rush over and begin pecking at the dirt to consume their treats. One of them spots me outside the mesh and struts over to me. She regards me with curiosity, tilting her head to the side, and I'm sure she's wondering what I'm doing here if I'm not going to feed them. I have no good answer to that question.
My phone buzzes, and I'm not surprised to see it's another text from Dan.
Why didn't you call me last night? We need to talk.
"Everything okay?" Dad asks, closing the coop door behind him.
"Work drama," I say, shoving my phone in my pocket. "Nothing interesting."
We begin walking back to the house, and Dad taps my arm gently.
