Friends, I went down the hill the other day to check on John Barry! He was outside, and he said, “I got that chicken hawk that has been getting my chickens! He got tangled up in that netting that he had stretched over the chicken pen!”
He asked, “Will you help me skin and dress it?”
I said yes, and we proceeded to pluck the chicken hawk!
Now, I stood it as long as I could stand it, but I had to ask, “What the heck you gonna do with this hawk after we dress it?”
He said, “I’m going to cook it! And give it to Jeff! He has been sorta sickly lately, thought some chicken soup might help him to feel better!”
“But,” I said, “John Barry, this ain’t a chicken? It’s a chicken hawk!”
He said, “Okay, but what do they eat?”
Of course I said, “Mostly chicken!”
He said, “Yes and a lot of mine lately!”
He put that chicken hawk in the crock pot and was adding all kinds of stuff.
I just had to ask, “Can Jeff not tell that this ain’t chicken?”
He laughed and said, “Well he didn’t say nothing last week when he ate that Hoot Owl!”
And life goes on, on Thompson Hill.
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