Sylvan Summer Part Iii the Girl Eraser Not

The cracker crisp Maine air rang with the rooster’s revel. Moving day, time to clean the hens shed. Monstrous three story hatchery, thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying. Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short; and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing. Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew; Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne, Aunt Donna and pony tail girl; wade through squawk, cluck and doodle. Horrific chore, girl eraser, the boys gawk on. Up they all must go! Sunny side up! Up, up, with the upside down omelet laying peckers. Grande dames lance laces, buttons and barrettes. wing flap, feathers fly, deep brown questioning eyes. “Get along with you three!” Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers above the din. “Up stairs with the whole damn lot of them!” The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of her chin and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand; they troop gingerly over the sawdust refuse strewn floor, up the tangled trio go, up!