Lord Forgive Me for I have Committed Murder

My grandparents used to live in a hollow in Martin Co. KY known as Pigeon Roost.  They lived in a white house on the hill.  My Papaw used to raise chickens.  He had a building for them.  It was red and had a few tiny doors for the chickens to go in and out of the chicken coop house and out into the outside chicken coop.  My cousin and I were very young, probably about 4 and 5 respectively and no matter how many times we were told to stay out of the chicken coop, we just wouldn’t.  I look back on it now and think how gross it was.  In order to sneek into the coop we had to crawl on our hands and knees through the tiny door that was at the back of the chicken house (this prevented us from getting caught).  I guess Papaw and Mamaw didn’t want us to crawl in chicken poop and that’s why they didn’t want us in there, but we thought “if it is forbidden it must be fun” and no matter how many times we got caught, we would sneek back in, until the day of the chicken murder that is.  On the appointed day, my cousin and I went into the coop.  While we were walking on the inside of the coupe I accidently knocked a board off that was leaning against the wall.  When it fell there was a very unlucky chicken waiting for it.  I can say for sure that it died quickly and although there was no autopsy, I’m pretty sure we could safely diagnose it as death by blunt force trama to the head.  The murder weapon, a 2X4.  Instead of being mad, Papaw laughed and took the chicken by the feet and carried it to my Mamaw.  I had killed one of his chickens, but on the upside he got fried chicken for dinner so it seemed to be a wash for him.  My mamaw just laughed and said “I told you to stay out of that chicken coop”.  If I got punished for killing the chicken, I don’t remember it, but I was sure the recipient of a lot of my families laughter.  My grandparents moved a few years after that and even though they were able bodied, I don’t recall them having but one or 2 chickens at their new home.  Perhaps they had had enough with trying to keep me and my cousin out of the coop, or maybe we didn’t have anything to do with it, who knows.  At any rate, periodically my mother will bring up my famous chicken murder and have a good laugh.  I don’t think I will ever live it down.  I feel bad for the chicken, but everyone told me that it would have eventually been killed and eaten anyway.  At any rate, it was tasty.

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