It leaned on the brick wall by the door of the coffee shop, its velcro bands spread wide as if some mighty muscle has burst its hold and gone on alone. Who did the brace belong to? and why did they leave it behind? Had a miracle occurred on that very spot? The questions and possibilities have chased each other around my mind all day. At 6:00pm, it was gone.
The anomaly of that brace reminded me of another brain teaser that happened a few years back. I needed some new chickens--mine were ready for the retirement home. An ad in the paper prompted me to action. The man on the other end of the line explained, "I've got chickens. A lot of chickens. They're used, though.
"You see, my buddy decided to go into the chicken business. He ordered 15,000 baby chicks. He didn't think about where he would house them or how much it would cost to feed them or where he would sell the eggs.
"He raised those chicks and he had eggs everywhere. First he kept the hens in a small building, but he couldn't sell all the eggs and he couldn't afford the feed. So he turned them loose. Well, coyotes got a lot of them. Others died for lack of feed, whatever. I told him I'd try to sell them. There were only 5000 by then. I've sold a lot and there's about 500 left.
"So here's what I'll do. I'll bring them to town in my gray Ford Econoline van. You'll know it's me by the side of the road. And you can pick out as many as you want."
I was fascinated. An Econoline van filled with 500 chickens flying loose? Would they be coming out the windows? Would he have a chicken sitting on his head? Would we open the doors, grab a chicken, slam the doors and then do it again to catch another one?
I couldn't wait to meet him. We drove to town and sure enough, there was the gray-primer van by the side of the road, and a wild-haired young man in a ball cap waving his arm out the window. Why weren't chickens flying out too?
I was disappointed. All the chickens were in cages, not flying free in the back of the van. Still, it was a sight as they clucked and squawked and stared at us with beady eyes. We picked out 20, paid for them and headed home. The young man continued on to Charleston with his ladies. I never saw him or his chickens again. But I thank him every time I remember that telephone call. You can't get better mental stimulation than that.
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