The Night Chicken
2.5 minute read
I spontaneously exclaimed, “that’s from the night chicken!” Even I was surprised by my own words. What did I just say? Wherever it came from, it popped into my head quickly and without thought.
My oldest son had picked up and toddled over holding a very small feather with his pudgy little fingers. Squeezed between his dirty finger nails, he held it up as if he was examining a specimen never yet seen before by humans. Bluntly, he asked, “what is the night chicken?”
I honestly didn’t know because I just made it up so (as they say) “I just went with it”. I explained that when we fall asleep and the house is really quiet, night chickens frolic around with their chicken buddies, like a late night poultry party. And, this is why we occasionally find little tiny feathers on the floor or little plums that stick to the couch cushions.
This idea spread through our house, now involving all the children, my oldest being the bearer of the good news. The grandparents were enthusiastically told the story, the daycare teachers were aware of this new and exciting development and even our neighbors nodded with agreement (and confusion) at the perplexing explanation that night chickens not only existed but that they frequented our home and probably theirs too. The kids fell hard for this crazy story: hook, line and sinker.
The effects of their nightly visits was clear evidence that they existed with the discovery of more and more feathers around the house. The proof that used to go unnoticed and eventually swept up, was being discovered almost daily, leading the children to truly believe in this elusive bird species. The chicken parties were blamed for snacks being eaten and the missing TV remote. Allegedly, they had a hidden nest under the bookshelves where they would hide out during the day and they were absolutely sure that the dog was their close friend. The night chickens became the common explanation for any type of disarray in the house.
The kids believed in their existence so wholeheartedly that elaborate traps were set to catch the slippery night bird which sadly, always failed. Everyone knows they are just too clever for those childish pranks. Besides, the chicks were too busy partying and socializing with their flock, which is what I told them each time a trap came up empty. After another fruitless capture, the kids called a meeting. Conversations were had, ideas were shared, they even cross-examined the dog which dejectedly resulted in zero leads. They took matters into their own hands and a new plan was set: they were going to camp out in the living room and wait. The living room seemed to be where all the action and feathers were. They waited and waited. And, eventually they fell asleep. They never did see a real night chicken, but they did find more feathers! If you ask them, they’ll tell you the night chicken is absolutely real but very hard to pin down, like Nessie or Bigfoot.
I still can’t believe that my blurt/explosion of words, was taken so seriously and enthusiastically. My heart smiles when they reference it. I feel like I created a tradition or a folk tale, which they will hopefully share with their families.
I suspect that soon pillows won’t be filled with bird feathers and this story will be isolated to their generation and that will be just fine. It’s been a fun story to tell.
With all that I love,
GL
