Page 29 - LIfesOuttakes4

squawking, and scratching. I shooed her away, yelling,

“Get away, you psycho fluff ball!” And that is how I
ended up calling her Fluff. It was short for Psycho Fluff

Ball.
It was only a couple of weeks after the attack that I
learned the reason it had occurred. She was still flitting

around, trying to chase every leaf, twig, or creature out of
the barn, when I heard some peeping sounds coming from

a dark corner in the barn. Despite her acts of intimidation,
curiosity got the better of me, and I inched closer. Sure
enough, it was full of little fluffy bundles of about every

imaginable color.
“Well, Fluff,” I said, “where in the world did you

find yourself a rooster?”
She looked at me sideways and squawked a long

squawk as if to say it was none of my business. I watched,
day by day, as the little chicks grew, and then sadly, one

day, they just disappeared, but not without a trail of
feathers. I knew whatever had gotten Fluff’s chicks must
have had a fight, because Fluff was minus lots of feathers

too.
By the time Fluff was once again in her protective

mood, most of her feathers had grown back. I snuck over
to the corner, and sure enough, there was a pile of eggs. I
kept an eye on them, and the first day I saw part of a beak

poking out of one, I rushed home to get my little daughters
and my wife. Fluff was beginning to trust me a little bit,

but the others made her nervous. Still, she let us get within

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