This week with Arlene and Jeff:
...A hundred yards farther along, he came to a densely overgrown field of what was obviously corn. "Shit, I love boiled corn slathered in butter with a little salt sprinkled on," he told Lobo. But after a search, he realized that the corn was fully mature, its leaves brown and dry, and the kernels on the ears dried and hard. "I guess it's too late in the season," he told his friend. "Oh, well, we'll have something to look forward to next year." As he and Lobo pushed through the tangled mess of corn stalks, weeds and vines, in many areas the foliage taller than Morales' head, the wolf obviously heard something. Before Morales could stop him, Lobo charged into the vines, flushing out five big birds - well sort of. Cackling and squawking, and with a hard flapping of wings, they took flight, but they leveled out about ten feet off the ground. It was soon evident they were headed for an apple tree a hundred and fifty feet farther away. Moments later, they practically crash-landed in the bigger limbs, still squawking and obviously irritated at the wolf.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Morales muttered. "Chickens!" Granted, they were unlike the chunkier chickens he had seen on TV. These looked to be taller and thinner with a nice combination of several colors blending into each other, particularly on the rooster. Its head, like the hens', was a fairly bright red, the neck, like part of the chest and back, was a brilliant white. Its back and belly seemed to be a blend of blacks, browns and reds with the rear end and tail an intense, shiny black. The hens were much drabber in appearance, their colors muted and their tail feathers much shorter, but they tended to adhere roughly to the basic color scheme of the proud rooster who reared his head back and crowed raucously. For chickens, they were perfect specimens of a healthy breed, and to Morales who wanted eggs to go with his bacon, they were beautiful.
Have a goodun;