Screamin’ Chicken

Before I get into this story I have to let you in on a little drama that has been going on here at the farm. But before I get into the drama part, I need to give you a little background about the title Screaming Chicken…

The name Screamin’ Chicken comes from the name of a restaurant. I honestly did not know if it was a national chain of restaurants or a single one but when I heard the name I thought it was a truly magnificent moniker for an eating establishment since it is easily remembered and it actually makes me hungry (not necessarily for chicken-screaming or silent, but hungry never the less). I had to look up on the internet just what the name was linked to.

Come to find out it is a single restaurant located in our very own Washington County and is right on the main drag of Highway 47 in Gaston! I had no idea. The name has stuck with me for I don’t know how long since I cannot remember when or where I first heard about the name.

OK, now for the drama on the farm.

I keep a herd of semi-feral cats to control the vermin population in our barns. I do feed them every evening to make sure they hang around but mostly they are on their own. The size of the group changes wildly since it is a tough life on the edge of coyote country that boarders a county road. We have litters of kittens and lose many, sometimes several in one week if the coyotes are particularly hungry.

I am able to get close to the feral group since I usually do the feeding and they trust me, a few of them I am able to call, pet and the big tom Siamese lets me pick him up on occasion. We had two litters of kittens a couple of months ago, one was to a striped cat and one belonged to a calico. Only three kittens out of the litters survived to be big enough to eat at the dinner bowl. I didn’t know exactly which cat had which kitten because both the mothers decided to share the feeding and grooming responsibility of the three littles, two completely black ones and one kind of Siamese looking. It was one big happy family until weaning time.

The mother cats decided it was time for the babies to survive without nursing and began batting them away when they tried to sneak a squirt. It became more vicious as the three little ones did not agree with the rude removal of warm milk. It was also during this time that summertime foraging trips were taking place and the big tom would lure a kitten or two away for hunting forays that would have several critters gone for a day or two at a time.

It seemed like all of a sudden, only one black kitten was still left out of the two litters. Both the mothers were still arguing about keeping the kitten from nursing and the kitten was very vocal about wanting milk. The kitten was pretty darn loud about it for when one of the mothers would swipe at the kitten it would scream like it was being tortured.

At first I thought that the mother cats were hurting the kitten but I saw the drama playing out one day. The striped cat was trying to eat dinner, the black kitten came sneaking in for a squirt. When the kitten got close the striped cat reared back and hissed and the kitten began screaming. They were not even close enough for the mother to land a swipe of her paw yet it sounded like the kitten was being murdered. The thespian had come to fruition, we had a very dramatic feline on our hands. We gave it the name Screamin’ Chicken.

Then the lone kitten went missing.

We were hoping that it was out on a hunting excursion, but we did not see or hear any histrionics after a day or two so were afraid that the lone kitten may have come to a bad end.

Several days went by without the kitten being hear or seen from, it was when I was picking prunes when I heard a small meow that was rather insistent. It kept getting louder and louder as I picked. Finally I went to investigate by making meow sounds back and the critter kept up the conversation. I found the black kitten in one of the apple trees. I fed it and it was ravenous, eating everything I had and wanted more. Over the next few days I would find the kitten in different trees in the garden, always hungry and begging.

Now the kitten has decided that I am an ok sort of person since I continue to feed he/she/it and has been getting braver each day. Today Mike had dispatched a scrub jay bird from the filbert tree and the dead bird was a real treat for dramatic feline.

It may have been just because of the full belly, but I was able to pet Screamin’ Chicken for the first time.

Whew, after all that drama, now I’m hungry. Anybody interested in joining me in Gaston at the Screamin’ Chicken? I promise I will not bring my four legged actor with me!