Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer by Kelly Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t get Henrietta.
    She didn’t get the invisible chicken either. I didn’t even see it until after she left. I was nervous, and I went to check behind the barn one more time, and something moved in the grass. It didn’t look like a rat, or a squirrel, or even like a chicken. It wasn’t that black thing either. It looked like a blurry part of the ground, like a puff of fir needles and leaves and grass blades. I froze, and I waited.
    After a long time, slowly, like a spell was wearing off, I saw a shadow of a chicken, and then darker and lighter stripes. A while later, there was a regular-looking fluffy black-and-white chicken pecking at the ground, with a little red comb and yellow legs.
    I blinked, and it was still there. So I took a step forward. It vanished.
    Well, I couldn’t leave it there to wait for Ms. Griegson to come back. So I went and got the old dog crate out of the barn and a handful of sunflower seeds. I couldn’t see anything when I got back to the crows’ tree, not even a blur, and I felt pretty sad. But I put the crate down anyway, and threw the sunflower seeds inside, and left the door open. After a few minutes, a chicken-sized blur went in, and I slammed the door shut. There was a horrible smell, and I found out invisible chicken poop doesn’t stay invisible.
    It was heavy and smelly and I was a little worried about what else this special chicken might be able to do, but I carried the crate all the way up to the henhouse anyway.
    Henrietta came down from the henhouse and looked hard at the crate. I put it down and I looked hard at it too. I know you said no chicks, but this new chicken looked like a girl chicken, not like a rooster. It’s kind of hard to tell when it keeps disappearing, though.
    Finally, I gave up worrying about the new chicken and opened the crate door. We both watched while the rest of the sunflower seeds disappeared from inside. I sat very still, and eventually two chickens were pecking around the yard. They seemed like they knew each other. The invisible chicken stayed visible for the rest of the afternoon. Please tell me if it was Great-Uncle Jim’s too, so I can tell my parents it turned up and it’s my responsibility.
    I haven’t seen the black one lately.
    Sincerely,
Sophie
    PS You wouldn’t have really sold a hawk-chicken to Ms. Griegson, would you? Did she steal it from you?
    PPS Please tell me the hawk-chicken isn’t my responsibility too.

    Standard height, fluffy black-and-white plumage with distinctive barring, yellow featherless legs and feet. Small red single comb, red earlobes.
    Large light-brown eggs, steady layer. Docile and friendly; good for children. Barred coloration helps this breed hide from predators.

June 19, 2014
    Mr. James Brown
    Wherever you are now
    Dear Great-Uncle Jim,
    The disappearing chicken laid an egg this morning! I could tell it wasn’t Henrietta’s because it wasn’t glass; it was like a fancy organic brown chicken egg that rich people buy at the store. I took it out of the nest box really carefully and put it in the fridge like Agnes said to, even though I could hardly wait to scramble it and eat it for breakfast. Maybe she will lay another one, and then in a few days I can make breakfast for Mom and Dad. They will just have to agree then that having a chicken is the best thing ever.
    After I did all my chicken chores and my regular chores, I checked to see which of my library books were due. I finally convinced Mom and Dad I could ride my bike into town on my own, to go to the library. Dad thought I’d get lost, because he has no sense of direction, and Mom worried I’d get hit by a car, because she’s used to Los Angeles traffic. They both were afraid I’d get stuck somewhere in between with no cell-phone service.
    But I reminded them that we live here now, and I can’t just stay on the farm for the rest of my life, or wait for them to have time to drive me around when I want to go somewhere. I’m twelve, after all,