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and throws it at the mess of plywood
and chicken wire。
At first all we hear is a bunch of feathers flapping； but then one of the birds es fluttering
out。 Not very far； but enough so we can see it's got
feathers and rubbery red stuff。
“So？” I ask him。 “Is that a rooster？”
He shrugs。 “Looks like a chicken to me。”
“How can you tell？”
He shrugs again。 “Just does。”
We watch it scratching at the dirt for a minute； and then I ask； “What's a hen； anyway？”
“A hen？”
“Yeah。 You got roosters； you got chickens； and then there's hens。 What's a hen？”
“It's one of those；” he says； pointing into the Bakers' backyard。
“Then what's a chicken？”
He looks at me like I'm crazy。 “What are you talking about？”
“Chickens！ What's a chicken？”
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He takes a step back from me and says； “Brycie boy； you are losin' it。 That's a chicken！” He
stoops down to pick up another rock； and he's just
about to let it fly when the sliding…glass door to the back patio opens up and Juli steps
outside。
We both duck。 And as we're checking her out through the fence； I say； “When did she get
home？”
Garrett grumbles； “While you were losing it about chickens。” Then he whispers； “But hey；
this'll work great。 She's got a basket； right？ She's
probably ing out to collect eggs。”
First she had to get all mushy with that mangy mutt of hers。 She got down and nuzzled and
ruffled and patted and hugged； telling him what a good
boy he was。 And when she finally let him go back to sleep； she had to stop and coo at the
bird Garrett had scared out； and then she started singing。
Singing。 At the top of her lungs； she goes
