A Tried and True Transformation

Sally tossed the last forkful of manure over the gate and propped the pitchfork in the corner of the stall. She wiped her brow with the back of her calloused hand and stretched like a cat to get the kinks out of her back.  As Old Bessie flicked the flies away, her scraggly tail hit Sally in the face and slid across her lips. She was instantly reminded of how she chewed the ends of her braids as a kid in anticipation of being called upon by her teacher. Sally was determined someday she wouldn’t answer to anyone. So far she succeeded as a farmer’s wife.

She spat on the dirt floor to clear the insult to her ruddy face and trudged with the milk pail through the shadowy barn on her way to the hen house. The garden wasn’t producing yet. It  wasn’t time for butchering the hog. The red hen that no longer laid eggs couldn’t go on the chopping block because little red-haired Nell, seeing her likeness, named the chicken ‘Sis’ and Sally just couldn’t kill a member of the family. Breakfast would have to be simple.

While Sally did the chores the kids were getting ready for school. Hubby was working in the field. A few eggs and milk from Bessie would make tasty french toast. Luckily, she had some jam made long before the hired man chopped the wild Elderberry bush down thinking it was a weed.

The hens didn’t fancy having eggs taken from under them. Craned scrawny necks flew from their cubby holes.  Likety-split, they pecked the hand that fed them with no qualms whatsoever. Sally jumped back at each attempt to steal an egg and accidentally kicked the milk bucket over. The nesting boxes dripped with runny yolks from her failed attempts. Sally tossed the empty egg basket into a straw heap and stomped back to house. She called McDonald’s and ordered five big breakfasts to be door-dashed to the old front porch. Grateful for the outside help, she vigorously rang the dinner bell for the family to gather around for breakfast.