The Trouble with Chickens (7 page)

Chapter 21
Rescue

T
he sun had set and the kitchen was dark.

The fireworks had begun. They shed just enough light for us to make out our own shadows.

Unlocking the bolt was easy for Moosh. All it took was some jerky movements of her head with her beak in the loop of the bolt.

I have to admit, she's pretty handy with that sharp beak of hers.

I had Poppy, Sweetie, and Dirt in the cage with me, but we could barely see one another.

I knew that they were counting on me, but it suddenly hit me that I was counting on them, too. It was not a great feeling.

All kinds of things can affect the outcome of a rescue—timing, weather, terrain, fatigue . . . and sometimes just dumb luck. We were counting on everything going just right. That rarely happens with people—I had no idea what the odds were with chickens.

Vince arrived right on time.

About two feet in front of the crate, Moosh stopped him in his tracks.

“I'll take off the funnel. I've got the sharpest beak,” she said.

Her voice shook a little, but Vince didn't seem to notice.

“Fine by me,” said Vince.

Moosh had to act fast now.

If she hesitated, we were lost.

I had a new appreciation for the pajama guy in the snowy cave, the lost skier in the Alps, and the victims waiting under piles of debris. My heartbeat always pounded with excitement as the rescue got closer . . . theirs was always pounding with fear. It was not the same feeling. I like the rescue beat much better.

“This is harder than it looks,” said Moosh, buying herself some time as she worked furiously on Vince's collar instead of the funnel.

“Hurry it up,” Vince growled. I said nothing. But silently, I seconded the motion. He sounded like he meant business. Moosh stood her ground and kept on pecking.

“Lower your head,” she told him.

Carefully Moosh clipped the infrared tag off Vince's collar and held it in her beak.

Then she dropped it to the floor and quickly kicked it to Sugar.

Wait for it
, I told myself.

My heart was pounding.

Vince caught a glimpse of Sugar running toward the crate with the tag.

Wait for it
, I told myself.

I held my breath.

While Sugar was running back to the cage, Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie ran out the back of the crate between the bars.

Now
.

I threw open the unlocked cage door and made just enough room for Vince.

Vince came down hard on his front paws and slid right in headfirst.

It wasn't the linoleum that did him in; it was the empty plastic bottles.

Just one more reason to recycle.

Gingerly, I stepped over his big back paws and out the door.

Dirt did the honors of slamming the door closed.

Moosh slid the lock back into place.

Vince was inside the cage.

I was outside the cage.

Just the way I liked it.

“Great plan,” I said to Dirt.

“Great teacher,” she replied.

My heart was still pounding.

But it was the rescue beat now.

Chapter 22
Inside Out

T
here was still something I didn't understand.

I turned to Vince.

“Why did you chase me away from here the first time? What about that wrestling match with the doggie door?”

“Big search-and-rescue hero,” he snarled. “Dogs like you are easy to read. If you didn't think the chicks were in danger, there wouldn't be any rescue, would there?”

He had a point.

Poppy and Sweetie were next.

“And you've been watching television for two days?”

“We came for the TV, we stayed for the books,” said Sweetie.

Couldn't argue with that.

The fireworks were over and it was time to go.

Those little chicks were still in a heap of trouble with their mom, but at least my trouble was over.

“What's wrong with you, anyway?” I asked Vince.

“What do you mean?”

“The giant funnel?”

“Chronic ear infection.”

I changed the subject.

“Why did you let Sugar in here in the first place?”

“Can't reach my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“She scratches my ears with her beak.”

I tried not to laugh.

I still had something on my mind.

“How did you know that Sugar wrote the notes?” I asked Moosh.

She took a deep breath. She was back in my good graces and wanted to stay there.

“Call it mother's instinct,” she said.

“You could have told me,” I answered.

“You would have walked away,” she replied.

“True,” I said.

“I was just a worried mom looking for my kids. I did what I had to do.”

She was looking me in the eye.

Her left foot was perfectly still.

“All right, Moosh. You and me are square.”

I thought she smiled, but again, it's tough to tell with a beak.

Chapter 23
Reward

“A
bout that cheeseburger . . .” I said to Moosh.

“There's no cheeseburger,” she said, “but you knew that.”

“I guess I did,” I replied.

Moosh headed back to the living room and hopped up on the couch.

I watched as Sugar waited a beat, then did the same.

The rest of the brood followed.

They were finally all together, but there was a huge spot between Moosh and Sugar.

It didn't make any sense.

“That must be one big chicken you're missing,” I joked.

Moosh looked right at me.

Sugar motioned for me with her tiny wing.

The spot between Moosh and Sugar was just my size.

It did look kind of comfy up there.

I jumped up on the couch.

Moosh.

Me.

Sugar.

Poppy.

Sweetie.

Dirt.

Sometimes, you find yourself exactly where you belong.

Epilogue

V
ince the Funnel got his ear tubes as planned and came back with an even bigger funnel wrapped around his head. Occasionally we hear a crash coming from the house, and we know he still hasn't quite adjusted to it.

I had to give Vince credit, though. He knew exactly how to push my buttons. Smart guy. Can't stand him, but he's a smart guy.

Sugar is teaching the rest of the family to read. We helped ourselves to a few books before we left the house that night. Barb doesn't seem to have noticed.

Sometimes when the chicks gather in the doghouse, I entertain them with tales of rescue from my glory days. It was Dirt who asked me why my rescue days were over. She always catches me off guard, that one. I wasn't ready to tell that story yet. But sooner or later, I'll tell. And if Sugar has her way—and she usually does—I guess it'll be sooner, not later, because Sugar . . . well, that chick will sure go a long way out of her way for a good story.

About the Authors

DOREEN CRONIN
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of favorite picture books such as RESCUE BUNNIES, the Diary of . . . series, and CLICK, CLACK, MOO:
Cows That Type
, a Caldecott Honor Book. When she was growing up, Doreen's dogs were named Archie and Trapper (after two of her favorite television characters). She lives in Brooklyn, New York. You can visit her online at www.doreencronin.com.

KEVIN CORNELL
spends his days writing and drawing from his doghouse outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He can do several popular tricks, including “Sit,” “Stay,” and “Illustrate books”—such as THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON:
A Graphic Novel
and the upcoming children's book MUSTACHE! You can visit him online at www.kevskinrug.com

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