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Chickened out
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I dreaded the morning ritual. I am not averse to getting up early and taking a quiet stroll on the empty albeit, chilly mornings nor the responsibility for bringing the daily quota of milk for the family. No. What I dreaded was the staunch smell coming from the large van carrying chicks for supplying to the nearby hotels specializing in cooking them, parked bang in the middle of my path. Being a pure vegetarian if I hated the smell, being a staunch supporter of cruelty against animals, I despised those who killed them as if there is nothing else to eat in this world. But what could I do? I felt hopelessly in adequate.
So, today morning was no exception; covering my nose and controlling the raising bile in my throat, I went to complete my daily ritual. But on my return journey I witnessed something astonishing. As usual, there were several people ferrying the crates containing shrieking birds to the hotels’ store room. However, some how, one bird jumped out of the crate and ran helter- skelter. The man carrying the crate dumped the crate back in the van and ran after the chick.
The chick darted across the speeding cars and narrowly escaped being run over by a bike and finally, eluding the man running after her, escaped in to the narrow space on the storm water drain and hid inside.
The man used all the tricks in his bag; first he called out loudly mimicking other chicks, then laid a bowl of pickings and added another bowl of water for good measure to lure the bird out. But our friend didn’t budge; she hid inside and started searching for escape routes – evident from the sound coming from inside.
I forgot the morning cup of tea and stood there mesmerized by this dual. From the sound and action of our hunter, it was evident that the chick ran deep inside and disappeared only to appear on the opposite side; in the open drain. The chase began again. This time it looked as though the man had bettered the poor bird. My heart skipped couple of beats as the man almost caught the chick by the proverbial tail. I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the chick outsmarting the man once again and entering another open slot!
By now a large morning crowd had gathered to see this fascinating dual. Some encouraging the man and even volunteering to help him coax the bird out.
I crossed my fingers and hoped the bird escaped. Finally there was a war cry from one of the helpful bystanders as the chick, now out of the drain, inadvertently dodged and came very near to him. This time, the dual did not last long. The bird some how, escaped and ran in to the drain and virtually disappeared.
We all waited; each one with a different motto and watched the open drain with batted breath. It looked as though, the bird finally managed to find a different route and disappeared. I walked back slowly thinking of the hapless bird, courageous enough to fight the opponent several times stronger and win the race for now.
I know, the bird may not be able to live longer in the drain; perhaps it will die of suffocation; perhaps, some one else will catch it and eat it. But that seemed irreverent as the present battle has been won by the bird. So, how do you describe a man chickened out because of a smart chick?
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