On a bench tucked alongside the playground,
a short walk to the windmill, safe distance from the coop,
she tells me why she prefers not to eat chicken;
how every morning the rooster watched her tiptoe
across the yard with a plate of table scraps,
reach up to unlatch the gate,
how the rooster raced toward her
squawking loud and angry,
how she’d fling the scraps over the fence and run;
how her mother insisted
she scatter the food from inside the pen
so all chickens could eat, not just the rooster;
how she could not, would not
walk through that gate,
how the bird sensed her fear.
She remembers the family parrot
released from its cage by her twin brother,
the sound of the screen door slamming
as he sauntered outside for his daily chores;
how she heard the parrot waddling
across the hardwood floor, claws clicking,
until it found her huddled in the kitchen,
how she clambered atop a small table,
and how the bird stood guard several hours.
She tells me of that first week as Scout Leader,
how the geese chased her and her charges
across the long field and why she’s glad
we’re not walking alongside the river today
as she can see the flock of long-necked fowl
from the bench on which we rest.
As I listen, a dog,
leashed and seemingly well-behaved–
unlike the one who took a bite out of my back–
strolls over and pees on my foot,
the scent of my fear lingering
even after so many years.
It felt good to wash the shoe.
Clue #11 – From the Bravo for Benches Scavenger Hunt: Out of harm’s way but within sight of one of the three types of birds that tormented Aunt Jane in her childhood.
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