REPOST: The Chicken Incident

This is one of my assignments from my Nonfiction Writing Class. Please enjoy, even if it's at my expense...

The problem with family folklore is that the story gets so terribly drawn out and exaggerated. In my case, I am the victim of The Chicken Incident. This is a story that happened when I was a toddler, so I can't exactly give my side of the story, but that doesn't stop everyone in my family, including my little brother who obviously wasn't there, from telling the legend. It wouldn't be so horribly bad if they would pick better times to retell it. The guests at my rehearsal dinner just HAD to hear about The Chicken Incident? I'm just relieved my husband didn't simply stay out after his bachelor party after the sheer terror of the tale.

So what WAS The Chicken Incident? To be honest, I'd heard the story told by so many people that I wasn't quite sure of the details anymore. It was time to swallow my pride and go to the source. I had to call my parents and get the cold, hard truth. After all, they were the ones who allowed The Chicken Incident to occur. My father, sadly, was of little help remembering details other than he thought it was the fall. He quickly passed the telephone to my mother, who had already started giggling with her memories.

It was the autumn of 1974, the last full year of my reign as an only child. We had gone through almost the entire area of the Philadelphia Zoo with me kept off my feet and close to them. This was a good idea considering my unique style of exploring the world. Even at the age of two, I had a voice that could be heard for several city blocks. I also had skipped learning to walk and went straight to running on tiptoe. It was in my best interest to keep me from running headlong into the lion pit, so I am grateful in retrospect that I was not allowed to play with the pretty kitties.

Finally, they brought me to the petting zoo. There were already children my own age running around excitedly, playing with the goats, sheep and other animals. Released to stand on my own two feet, my arms shot into the air and waved wildly as I barreled past the smaller creatures and stopped before the largest cow I could find. Once I was nose to nose with the cow, I screamed with delight! The cow mildly turned her dark eyes on mine, and then licked me from my coat collar to my hairline. I screamed again, and then ran over to a goat to continue the process, my arms still waving, my feet still on pointe. I screamed at a sheep, and then ran over to a chicken I had passed at the entrance to the petting zoo. The chicken and I were almost the same height, but she had a half inch on my small, compact frame. We stood no more than a foot from one another.

I screamed happily at the chicken.

The chicken fell over backwards without a sound, her feet straight up in the air.

The denouement, according to my mother, was that a young man working in the park came running over, looking extremely upset. He insisted I be removed from the petting zoo immediately because I was upsetting the animals. My parents looked around at all the animals that were still standing and decided to not take their chances. We went home, my parents laughing the whole way and long into the evening. Of course, they had to tell everyone about The Chicken Incident. As my mother put it, "What are the chances your kid can do this? It was incredible!"