The Eyes in the Tree

By Carolyn VanderBeek

Blondos thinks she is the most magnificent chick in the cage she shares with other feathered friends inside a feed store. Forced to constantly preen in front of perfect strangers so as not to be overlooked during the selection process, Blondos is prepared to do more of the same when a kindly man enters the store one day. After a series of mishaps that nearly stand in the way of her opportunity, Blondos can hardly believe her luck when the man finally chooses her.

As she is carried out of the store in a box with five other chicks, Blondos wonders if they have all been selected for eggs or fryers. Surely she is too important and beautiful for that destiny. Soon, the chicks begin a new life where they observe their keepers as closely as they are studied themselves. As Blondos and her roommates grow from fuzzy balls into chickens, they are completely unaware that there are eyes in the tree waiting, watching, and listening.

In this whimsical animal tale, six feisty chicks must not only learn to trust their new master and mistress but also each other as they all fight to make their way in a scary new world where Everything loves a good chicken dinner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475989199

Carolyn VanderBeek

Carolyn VanderBeek has never lived without some kind of animal. She resides in Colorado with her husband, who is a gentle and kind animal lover as well.

Book preview

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

For my sister, Kristin, the Edna Gladney Home, Fort Worth, Texas, and of course, my husband, Henry

In memory of Auntie Edna Gladney and my parents, Curtis and Lucile

1

Have you ever slept with one eye open? Something on your mind kept you borderline awake all night. Sometimes you know what it is – sometimes you don’t. Well, I knew what had been interfering with my sleep last night.

Like clockwork, we began to awaken, yawning, stretching, squawking, and with the exception of me, shaking our heads to clear the fog of wonderful sleep. Although we were toasty-roasty in our roost, even our faces warmed when the sunlight hit the roof of the garage. Of course, I was the first one down for breakfast. As usual, our coop had been cleaned, and the doors to our daily adventure had been left open.

Shhh! I whispered. You’ll wake them.

Everyone glanced in the direction of the sleeping chicks that had arrived last night, we all nodded in agreement and then tiptoed toward the open door to the porch. The line assembled and waited.

Hurry up, Blondos! snapped Reddy.

Reddy was impatient because she knew, along with everyone else, that I am always first—no matter what, no questions asked.

Go ahead, ladies. I will join you later, I replied.

Oh, boy, she gave us her royal permission, snorted Mildred.

Well, it is kind of fitting, Mildred. After all, her breed is English: she’s an Orpington, from Kent, England, to be exact! The rest of us are from the wrong side of the pond, Sicky said with a giggle.

Oh, is it the egg thing? It’s kind of early for that, isn’t it? asked Stinky, ignoring Mildred’s and Sicky’s remarks.

No, I simply want to keep an eye on the new little arrivals for a bit. Go on outside. I will be there in a little while. Go on, I said in a testy tone.

Everyone got the picture and out the door they went, mumbling and grumbling.

Oh, fine! She will get to talk with them first.

That’s right!

She is first in everything else, so why not this too?

After a quick breakfast, I ascended the ladder to the roost. I fluffed the shavings and settled in to wait for the fuzzy chicks to awaken. Very few minutes passed before I heard the first squeaks below me. I observed them stretching and yawning and noticed their instinctive movement toward the water and chick feed.

I felt like a minister in a church. I was in the pulpit high above my flock, which was now stirring in the nursery on the floor just outside of our coop.

I was quiet—I didn’t want to startle them. As I watched, I couldn’t help but remember what it was like to be exactly in their spot. It was then I decided to tell them our story. I had often thought about it over the years. I now had clarity about the events and the feelings of others with whom I shared the experience. Our arrival here and our subsequent life were still discussed almost daily—reverently. We weren’t one hundred percent sure, however, about the feelings and thoughts of our keepers. Often we would call a forum, analyze the issues, and then quite logically fill in the blanks. We felt confident that we knew them well enough to know when they were concerned, frightened, worried, and happy, without them uttering a word.

We loved our story, and now was the time to tell it! How fortuitous to have a fresh audience! It was a brilliant idea. As soon as it occurred to me, the busy little chicks finally spotted me. They froze, stunned. Before they could speak, I dug deep to find a gentle, reassuring voice.

Don’t be afraid. You are safe, clean, warm, and soon to be loved. I could see them relax. I could also see that one of them was preparing to speak.

I instantly interrupted.

Yes, it is amazing that you find yourselves in the presence of the most magnificent-looking chicken you have ever seen. Thank you, thank you. I oozed charm. But let’s not dwell on that. Do you like stories?

They nodded.

Good. I have a story I hope you will like. Get comfortable. Remember—no questions until I am finished.

They nodded again and fluffed themselves, settling into the nests they’d made in the shavings.

If you need a break for a snack, drink, or ‘you know,’ chirp once and only once, and I will pause. Okay?

They nodded in unison and gazed at me with Pinocchio eyes—huge and curious.

Honestly, they were very cute. The best part was I could leave their pesky questions to the other girls. Slightly selfish of me—definitely.

Well … I began.

2

Good grief. I know we are little, but how many more of us can she possibly put in this cage? After the last resident was placed inside, I could finally take stock of my cage mates. Then I had an astounding revelation—I was the most beautiful chick in the cage. I was magnificent.

Our cage was warmed by lights, and the chick feed and fresh water were plentiful. However, obnoxious little pigs were determined to get more than their fair share. I have to admit, I led the piggy pack. After all, I needed to maintain my beautifulness, and it didn’t much matter to me at whose expense. My cage mates were quick studies. When I headed to the feed trough, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. I had to give them credit for having some brains. I thought because of my magnificence, I was the only smart chick.

Through the window, I saw that it was stormy. It felt cold every time the door was opened. I’d heard this place referred to as a feed store. Wait a minute—who was I supposed to feed? Those, I thought, were dots I didn’t want to connect. Whenever I got nervous, the very best thing for me to do was eat. Move over, girls.

Personally I didn’t get the whole cage thing. I wanted to free range in that shop, because I saw some delicious edibles crawling around under the display cases and saddle racks. Free range could be a win-win situation. The store is free of bugs and spiders, and I get full consuming them.

My life really began that very day, and I didn’t even realize it at the time. We rarely recognize the significance of important events in our lives. Funny how that happens—and not just to chicks. I believe it, I do.

It was a mystery that every now and then people came into the store and asked to purchase chicks. The lady who works here would open the cage, and some of the chicks would be grabbed, not necessarily nicely, and we would never see them again! We were all becoming rather terrified. I thought she liked us, but she actually let kind of nasty-looking people take some of us away.

That day, a very kind-looking man walked in.

We received your call. Thank you. So our chicks have arrived. We are very excited and anxious to take them to their new home.

She reviewed his order. Yes, one Rhode Island Red, two Plymouth Barred Rocks, two Silver-Laced Wyandottes. I think that’s it. Oh yes—and one Buff Orpington.

That’s me!

The man said, I would be in trouble if I didn’t get the Orpington. I think that was my wife’s first choice. She says they look like big yellow beach balls, and she loves yellow! How can you tell which is which? They are all tiny and fuzzy, with only the slightest variations. I’m sure you will steer me in the right direction.

All of our chick ears were glued to the conversation. We knew that at least six of us were very close to meeting our fate.

Wait a minute! I thought. I am a Buff Orpington. I hardly think I will grow up to look like a big yellow beach ball. I am fabulous, and I am magnificent, so what in the world will the other chicks grow up to look like? What a nightmare!

She led the man to our cage. As we all stampeded to the rear, she opened the door.

Oh, no!

The man asked, I get to choose?

Why, yes, she replied.

Suddenly, the most charming, boyish smile lit the man’s face, and we all leaned to get a little closer to him—but just a little. The biggest hand any of us had ever seen entered the cage. I can’t believe the entire world didn’t hear our collective gasps.

Which are the Wyandottes, Dee?

Her name is Dee? That was the first time we had ever heard her name. Nice—it suited her. And it was nice he acknowledged her as a person. Nobody else ever did. There was definitely something different about this man.

However, hearing Wyandottes, the Wyandottes scattered like geese and tried to hide under the other chicks.

His voice calmly and almost lovingly said, It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. That is the last thing in the world I would ever do.

In fact, he said, smiling and laughing, I would love to be one of my wife’s chickens, or any of her animals, for that matter.

The Wyandottes melted like butter, and the rest of us stared in total disbelief. He placed his huge hand over one of them and very gently closed his fingers around it. He then removed it from the cage and placed it, equally as gently, in the transport box with the little holes. We all decided the holes were there so we could breathe. Very thoughtful! Arrive alive—that’s my motto.

The capture process continued quietly, gently, and without incident—with the exception of the snooty Rhode Island Red, who thought she should try to resist.

She stated boldly, Watch this! I will peck him and bite him so he will know I am tough. We are all tough, with the exception of the wimps already in the box.

Well, we watched, all right! As soon as he touched her she was transformed into a sleepy-eyed, smiling bowl of Jello, as content as anything I have ever seen.

There, he said with the satisfaction of a job well done. Now for the Orpington! He noted, This one is important.

It never occurred to me that I, in all my radiance, would not be selected. To my horror and astonishment, he began reaching toward the washed-out little Orpington to my left.

No! I cried.

I catapulted myself hard, and I hit the chick with such force that we both ended up splayed against the side of the cage. I was so humiliated to have behaved in such an unbecoming manner, totally unfitting to my magnificence, that I temporarily lost sight of the prize—to be selected.

Once again his enormous hand was reaching to the opposite side of the cage. The object of his reach sped out of his way, but only after the chick saw the freight train, me, heading straight for it. After several more missed attempts, I was beginning to feel like a ping pong ball. Although I was determined and my pride was definitely at stake, I was huffing and puffing. Then I noticed a sly smile on the man’s face.

To my amazement he said, You must be the one. He placed his hand, palm up, directly in front of me.

I met his invitation with a chirp and hopped onto his palm. His fingers gently closed around me, and his enormous hand withdrew me from the cage.

I sighed a huge sigh of relief. I had