Page 76 of The One You Want

She gave me a wave as she headed to the door and called over her shoulder, “have fun with thechickens!”

* * *

So here’sthe thing about chickens—it turns out, they were actually kind of terrifying. Maybe, in smaller doses, I could be persuaded to see some of the positive attributes Jerry kept going on and on about. But there were somanyof them. They had this disquieting way of moving, all jerky and prehistoric looking, dozens of them surrounding me, squawking around by my legs, pressing in closer, looking up at me with their beady, lifeless littleeyes.

Have you ever looked at chicken feet? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about them that I found highly unsettling. Particularly when they were walking across my sneakers. And they wereloud. So loud I could barely hear myself think, let alone focus on the instructions Jerry was trying to shout tome.

“All right Jenny,” he called. “Go ahead and put that fooddown.”

Oh, God. “Won’t they get myfingers?”

He chuckled. “They might peck at you a little but it won’t hurt. They’re just after theirfood.”

I found that very hard to believe but I also didn’t want to stand here in the middle of a chicken riot any longer than necessary. Taking a deep breath, I bent over, hastily dropped the metal trough on the ground, then sprinted out of there, careful not to step on any of their feathery littlebodies.

“Holy hell,” I muttered, wiping my forehead as I approached Jerry by the fence post. “How many times a day do you have to dothat?”

“Oh, two or three,” he said. “Just you wait until you see the mainflock.”

I gaped at him. “You havemore?”

He chuckled. “I have over a hundred chickens on this farm,Jenny.”

Oh my God. I couldn’t even imagine. But Jerry didn’t seem to pick up on my horror. In the twenty minutes I had been on his farm, I’d already learned that he had a one-track mind when talking about hischickens.

“I mostly raise birds for eggs,” he explained. “I also sell stock to other farmers. You’d be surprised how big the mail order chick businessis.”

I nodded at the few dozen birds still squawking away over the food I’d put out. “And what about these guys? Are you sellingthem?

“This here is my meatstock.”

“Your…meatstock?”

He nodded. “Yup. I do the butchering myself here on the farm. You’ve never had fried chicken so good as when it’sfresh.”

I looked back over at the birds, feeling considerably softer towards them than I had a minute ago. They might freak me out, but I didn’t want toeatthem. Maybe I would do some research on vegetarianism when I gothome.

“Now we collect the eggs,” he said. “I actually do this first thing in the morning but I left a few stalls so you could get a feel forit.”

I looked up at his cheerful, well-lined face, a flash of affection surging through me. Jerry Brooks might be eccentric, and his love for these birds might be the subject of a lot of ridicule in town, but he was a goodguy.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” I said as he led me over to one of thecoops.

“Are you kidding? I love showing people my birds. Besides, I think the self-help thing you ladies are doing is a greatidea.”

“Youdo?”

“Sure. We can all use a little more drive, right?” He shot me a bashful smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Sadie only agreed to go out with me because of thatbook.”

The idea of little old Sadie Taylor—who was well into her sixties—agreeing to go on her first date in a decade because of the silly lioness book filled me with a wave of warmth. Maybe the whole thing wasn’t nearly as pointless as I had assumed in thebeginning.

Gathering up the chicken eggs was easy enough as Jerry droned on and on about their schedule and feeding and the benefits of fresh, organic, free-range blah blah blah. When we were done with that, he led me over to yet another coop, this one filled with squeaking littlebabies.

“Oh my goodness,” I cooed, running my fingers through the fluffy white feathers of the bird nestled in Jerry’s arms. “Look at the littlechicks!”

“Sweet, huh? Here.” He plopped the white chicken into my arms. “That there is Margie. Give her asnuggle.”

“Iloveher,” I breathed, running a fingertip over the soft down on herhead.