Floppy

by Erin C.

It’s my first morning on the new farm. I didn’t sleep well. There are so many places in this chicken coop to rest up for the night. I haven’t yet seen any hens that I find attractive. Their feathers are so much duller and droopier than what I’m used to seeing. I’m too good for this place. The old human who brought me to this farm came out ten minutes ago for the first feed of the day. He threw out maybe ten handfuls of corn, and that’s it. I had to fight for what little mouthfuls of breakfast I could get. I was the king of the coop at the incubation farm, but this place has reduced me to a beggar.

When the old man came out in the afternoon for our second feeding time, he brought another human with him, a young scrappy girl with dirty brown hair and freckles. She laughed at me when she saw me: “His crown is all flopped over to one side!” I crowed at her. That is not true. My crown is a beautiful crimson red, and maybe it’s not completely straight-standing, but it’s definitely not floppy. Along with several handfuls of corn--much more than this morning’s feed--the scrappy girl also brought with her a bucket of assorted foods. Once again, I had to fight among the other beggars to obtain what food I could. This place is wretched, and I feel wretched in it.

This morning feels the same as yesterday morning. I am exhausted from lack of rest. I haven’t yet found a comfortable place to rest myself. The old man came out this morning with his same meager amount of corn. I don’t think I will ever get used to fighting other chickens for my meals. Even though there are only three other roosters in this whole coop (the other 27 chickens are hens), I find it hard to compete because I have always been given my own amount of food everyday.

           

When the old man and the scrappy girl came out for our second feeding today, things got heated. The old man threw out his usual handfuls of corn, and the young girl brought the bucket of mixed foods. When I approached the foods from the bucket which were strewn across the ground, several hens and one rooster turned their heads and pecked at me. I guess they just don’t like me, the newest member of the coop. I guess I haven’t yet earned a good reputation? I don’t know. But, for whatever reason, they wouldn’t let me eat any of the interesting bucket food. I was forced to resort back to the boring corn. The scrappy young girl looked at me. She said, “Here, Floppy. Don’t let them treat you that way!” and she scraped a few scraps out of the bucket and put them on the ground in front of me. I pecked down the delicious unknown substance and retreated. Although she showed me one act of kindness, I will still trust no human being. Ever.

Last night, I finally found a comfortable place to rest, away from all the enemies I’ve formed at this chicken coop. During our breakfast feed, I noticed the other three roosters eyeing me. Eyeing me hard. Like wouldn’t-look-away-even-one-time hard. I felt super uncomfortable, but I didn’t let it show. A beautiful, masculine rooster like me can’t let other roosters know that he’s intimidated. So as soon as I noticed their determination to stare me down, I turned my tail feathers to them and continued to fight for my corn kernel breakfast. To the wolf’s belly with them.

Something incredibly distressing has happened… I’ve been jumped. When the old man and Scrappy came out to present us with our usual corn and bucket of assorted foods, I made my way to fight for just one beakful of the bucket food, just one. As I neared the food, the rooster gang cornered me up against the wire fence and pecked me everywhere. My feathers, my wings, my comb, my claws—there was no single part of me left unscathed. I began to think that I might die. A glowing, warm, welcoming white light appeared in my eyes, and I longed for that light. In the glow of the light, I could feel no pecking. No wretchedness of the farm. No shame of having a floppy comb. I felt happy. Content. Loved. Suddenly, I was pulled away from the light and back to the farm. The scrappy girl was chasing after the rooster gang with a gigantic tree branch: “You stay away from Floppy, you stupid varmints!” She’d saved me.

Breakfast this morning was fine. I slept fine. I ate corn. The roosters left me alone. I hurt everywhere from yesterday’s brawl. I’m beginning to wish that Scrappy hadn’t saved me from the rooster gang.

This afternoon’s feed was miraculous. Not only did Scrappy give me a small portion of my own from the bucket, she brought me a delightful brown square that she called bread. She gave a few pieces to the hens to share. But I got my very own piece. I believe she’s taken a liking to me.

Once again, breakfast was fine. I slept fine. Life is fine. It’s just so dull. Everything at this farm is so dull. Except for Scrappy. I can’t wait until our afternoon feed.

I learned a new trick today. Scrappy brought me another piece of bread of my very own, but this time, she didn’t put it on the ground in front of me. She held it up above my comb, too high for me to peck. She said, “Jump to reach it, Floppy! Jump! Floppy, jump and you can get the bread! Jump, Floppy! Come on!” I had no idea what this jibber jabber meant. All I knew is that I wanted that delicious bread. I can’t fly because they clip our wings here, but I had another idea. I jumped up and grabbed one beakful of bread. Just one. I gobbled it down and jumped up to get one more beakful. I did this over and over and over while Scrappy laughed and laughed and laughed. I think she enjoys when I do this. The hens seemed to be almost afraid of what was happening. I didn’t care. I ate that entire piece of bread, jump by jump. And when it was finished… Scrappy pulled out another piece, and I started all over.

This morning is a brand new day. This morning, I got first pickings out of the bucket food. This morning, I have not been pecked. This morning, I have been surrounded by an entourage of hens and even one rooster. Hopefully, this isn’t some plan for a big gang fight. Hopefully, the roosters haven’t persuaded the hens to their side. Hopefully, this is the dawning of a new era. I guess we shall see.

I once again performed my new trick for Scrappy. She held out the bread, and I jumped and jumped and jumped until that piece was gone. Then, she held out another piece. Then, she held out a third piece. She loves my trick. This afternoon, the entourage that surrounded me during breakfast appeared around me once again to observe the spectacle. I suppose no chicken has ever gotten comfortable being close to a human on this farm before. Not even for delicious bread. After our feed, the hens and now all three roosters followed me around as if they wanted to do my bidding. My new trick impressed them. Much like at the incubation farm, I now have a posse. I now have a gang. I now have first pickings of meals. Once again, I have become the King of the Coop. Watch out, y’all. Floppy’s back.