The Dance

The backdoor creaks open.  The backyard bleats in response.  Clunky rubber boots thud down the deck steps.  A widespread rustle in the woods rushes towards me.  Heaving an orange, painter’s bucket, water sloshes on my side, on my water-resilient boots, in my water-resilient boots.  Halfway to the barn, the wooded rustle catches up to me.  It comes at me from all sides with various heads  futilely attempting to verify the contents of my pail.  They want solid food.  All I have is water.  No matter.  They will follow me nonetheless, just in case.

In face of this familiar entourage, I back up;  I stumble.  Somehow a burly, brown-spotted ewe is behind me.  Now it is in front of me.   Now it is in back of me.  Now, in front.  Her loud cry is a unique combination of typical sheep noise, the gargling of salt water, and a boat horn.  Pulling my bucket way above their heads, I show my intention to plug along the path in spite of their obstruction.  The sheep trail shortly behind me.  The goats zigzag shortly ahead, carelessly tripping me up.  Noting the commotion, the pigs run up along side me from whatever they were doing, not wanting to run the risk of missing any run-off food.  They look up at me awkwardly with their expectant eyes, watching me as if I were a X-men mutant whose superpower was dispensing large amounts of grain from his wrists.  Kaboodle, with her deep bass voice, bellows out her boat horn cry again.  Finally, I reach the end of my path.  I pour my water into one of the plastic containers as if to say, “See no food after all,” even though I know they will continue to hold out for the possibility.

I turn around and am startled to see the entire flock of chickens congregated with the two sheep, two goats, and two pigs.  Suddenly the crowd seems a lot larger, more intimidating.  It’s either a protest that’s about to turn ugly or a choreographed finale awaiting its climax.  I choose the latter.  Amassing two scoops of pellets from a nearby bin, I throw them into the air like confetti.  A new zeal seizes the experienced and time-tested troupe as they round off another performance.