[AT] OT: gasoline price

[Danny Tabor]

        I'm a little off topic here but, well I just
feel a little sentimental. Maybe its from Cecil's
previous post about hunting and a good dog. I've had
some good dogs myself, I have never hunted with a dog,
just good pets and friends to me. My most memorable
pets weren't dogs or cats but more fowl like. 
      Earty-er-er was one of the finest chickens you'd
ever meet. She lived in the house and never did we
have to clean up after her. She would follow us out
with the dog while we did our chores, I suppose she
did her business then. Never while out would you catch
her socializing with the other chickens, not even the
rooster could win her heart as in her mind she was far
above those yard buzzards.
    As I write about Earty I cannot help but to think
about old Mr Halloman. He sold Wayne feeds and was in
the kitchen discussing with my father what would be
best to give the Hogs. Mr. Halloman had the bushiest
eyebrows at that time (4yrs. old) I had ever seen. Dad
was busy reading over some papers but me, I was
sitting watching Mr. Hallomans eyebrows. Each one
individually was taking turns raising up the lowering
down, like a seesaw. Dad finally took notice,
"Mr.Halloman is everything okay".....eyebrows not
stopping he points to the kitchen sink,"I don't know
how it got in here but there's a chicken roosting on
your faucet."  Oh what a big laugh when Dad explained
and even today it brings a smile.
         Ronald was a Muscovy duck and one of the
finest of his species. He thought he was a dog. While
waiting for the bus in the morning Ronald would be
right there with me and would still be there waiting
when I got home. Oh yea it was me and Ronald right
behind bobbing his head back and forth hecking.
Muskovy's don't quack they heck!  
      Ronald also enjoyed attacking strange cars as
they came into the drive. He would stand there hecking
and pecking at the door. Should the driver be so brave
as to even crack open the door Ronald would sort of
cock his head, shake it and give 'em a heck-kkkkk
(sort of like a snort but an elongated heck). Nobody
dared to get out and I don't blame them. Daggone with
his blood red face, beady green eyes, and dinghy white
feathers. He looked like a duck that meant business or
maybe an experiment that just went
wrong....Frankenduck. Anyway most visitors just
settled with honking the horn till somebody came out.
If it was somebody worth visiting with I'd gather up
the duck, if not everybody stayed in their positions,
Ronald in between, stated their business and be on
their way.
     Mom had caught the wrath of Ronald. Now I
deserved it I'm sure, but one day Mom spanked me and
she made the mistake of doing it outside. Ronald
caught wind of my cries and he attacked with
vengeance. Mom retreated into the house to treat her
multiple bruises and bumps on her legs. THE DUCK DREW
BLOOD! Ronald crawled into my lap to comfort me. From
that day on Mom could not leave the house without a
broom in hand and a clothes basket near by. It really
was a matter of who attacked first....give him a real
quick swat with the broom then throw the basket over
him. Also she had to throw some weight on top of it
otherwise she'd have a basket following her where ever
she went.
     Ronald lived for nine years and I believe he
would still be alive except for making a fatal
misjudgment while attacking a car. He moved around to
the front of the tire...squash, but Ronald was a proud
duck and when the driver walked toward him, Ronald
made one last gallant lunge toward his leg but died
just short.  What a good duck Ronald was indeed!!

    Hope nobody is quiting ATIS for my story about
chickens and ducks but it can't be all tractors all
the time can it?

Danny Tabor 

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