There are two things I really love in life. One of them is music. As a boy my happiest moments were playing bluegrass on my Gene Autry guitar.<\/p>\n
So fresh snow covering the ground wasn\u2019t going to keep me from the Christmas Cantata at church. Stepping out into the night afterward with my wife, Carol Jean, I barely felt the cold I was so full of music.<\/p>\n
Carol Jean got behind the wheel. The snow crunched under the tires as we pulled out. Tough travels to church were nothing new for me. Growing up my siblings and I had to cross a big Virginia mountain to get to church\u2014two hours on foot. It was hard going, but then, everything was back then.<\/p>\n
We didn\u2019t have a bit of flatland to grow crops on, just small areas between the woods where we could grow vegetables here and burley tobacco there\u2014a \u201cpatch farm\u201d they called it. I liked to think the hard times made me tougher\u2014I was now 78 and still going strong.<\/p>\n
As the headlights swung toward the highway, I saw something in the road. \u201cI\u2019d better check it out,\u201d I said. Carol Jean pulled over.<\/p>\n
Up close I could make out reddish gold feathers sprawled in the slushy snow. Feathers with a big black grease streak running down the center. It was a chicken! I said there were two things I really love in life. Music was one. Chickens were the other.<\/p>\n
\u201cPoor thing,\u201d I said, kneeling down beside the soggy heap. \u201cMust have got hit by a car.\u201d I hated to leave her by the road where a car might hit her again. I picked her up to take her away. To my surprise, she moved. It seemed impossible.<\/p>\n
Cradling her in my hands, I took her back to the car. \u201cWhat am I going to do with Goldie?\u201d I said. The name just popped out. It suited her.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake her home, of course,\u201d said Carol Jean.<\/p>\n
Goldie didn\u2019t struggle, just sat on my lap, squawking and clucking the way chickens do. Even though I still kept chickens the sound brought me back to my childhood in the mountains.<\/p>\n
I always helped Mom with the chickens when I was a boy, when I wasn\u2019t hitching the mule to the plow or chopping firewood for the stove or hunting squirrels and possums with my hound dogs. We had to be tough to survive back then. Goldie had to be tough to survive now.<\/p>\n
By the time we got home it was close to midnight. I found a little bird cage and mixed up some laying mash and scratch feed. I stretched out Goldie\u2019s wings\u2014they were in good shape. But when I tried to stand her up, one leg crumpled beneath her. Nothing was broken that I could see, but she\u2019d injured her left hip.<\/p>\n
If there\u2019s one thing a chicken needs to survive, it\u2019s two good legs to scratch and peck, run and jump, or perch on a roost to sleep at night. She probably won\u2019t make it, <\/em>I thought. Surviving that kind of road accident was nearly impossible.<\/p>\n Almost as if she heard my thoughts, Goldie started gobbling up her feed. This little chicken was tougher than I thought. Maybe she could survive. Christmas was the season of impossible things, when the impossible becomes possible. Isn\u2019t that what Jesus\u2019s birth had taught us?<\/p>\n I drove around the area to see if anyone had lost a chicken. No one had. I guessed Goldie was here to stay. I moved her to a bigger bird cage and set her on a table in the basement. We had a full house for the holidays\u2014all six of our kids and their families.<\/p>\n For a week nobody ever walked by Goldie\u2019s cage without stopping to say hello. \u201cYou\u2019re getting used to all this attention, aren\u2019t you?\u201d I said to her one evening as I cut up a little apple to feed her from my hand. \u201cI might even call you spoiled.\u201d<\/p>\n Goldie fluffed up her feathers, looking pleased with herself. She looked healthier every day. But Christmas passed, and then New Year\u2019s Day, and she still couldn\u2019t stand up. \u201cShe won\u2019t survive if she can\u2019t walk,\u201d I told Carol Jean one day in early January.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I went down to the basement. Goldie cocked her head expectantly. I lifted her out of the cage and set her on the floor, supporting her weight in my hands. Little by little I let more weight rest on her leg. Goldie fell over. \u201cI know you don\u2019t like it,\u201d I said, \u201cbut you have to tough it out to get better.\u201d<\/p>\n Every day I tried out her leg again until one day she actually stood by herself. Come early February she even limped a couple steps. From then on, we practiced walking every day. I put Goldie on the floor and cheered her on. If she slowed down or tried to sit, I gave her a gentle nudge with a broom.<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t help but remember my old days on the farm when Mom would wake us up early for church. Some days I just didn\u2019t think I could face that mountain. But I did it. And so would Goldie.<\/p>\n One night in bed I wondered if I was pushing too hard. Goldie had greatly improved since that December night I found her, but maybe she\u2019d reached her limit. Maybe I\u2019m too tough on the old bird, <\/em>I thought. It was surprising she\u2019d survived this long.<\/p>\n The following day when I went down to the basement I saw something i n Goldie\u2019s cage. A perfect brown egg! It sure seemed like a sign\u2014a promise of even better things to come. Goldie was still a Christmas miracle, a reminder that all things were possible.<\/p>\n In no time she was walking the length of the basement and back again.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to move Goldie into the hen house now?\u201d Carol Jean wanted to know.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about it,\u201d I admitted. \u201cBut chickens like to pick fights with a stranger. Goldie\u2019s much smaller than the other hens, and she\u2019s still weak from her accident. She wouldn\u2019t stand a chance.\u201d But life in a cage was no life for a chicken.<\/p>\n Suddenly I remembered a man I knew years before who raised a lot of roosters. He used to exercise them in his yard until they were really strong. Could I whip Goldie into shape too? It couldn\u2019t hurt to try!<\/p>\n I cut out a piece of carpet and put Goldie on it. She dug into the pile, where she could get a good grip with her feet. \u201cOkay,\u201d I said. \u201cLet\u2019s go!\u201d<\/p>\n I nudged Goldie to the right. Then back to the left. Then forward. Then back. She bobbed in all directions, never leaving the carpet. By the time we were finished Goldie\u2019s mouth was hanging open and she was breathing hard, like an athlete.<\/p>\n We \u201cworked out\u201d every day. As the weeks went by, I could see Goldie getting stronger, more nimble. I would never have believed that soggy ball of feathers by the highway would turn out to be this tough boxer bird! Now, anything seemed possible for my Christmas chicken. Even the hen house.<\/p>\n On the first of April, I waited until dark when I knew the other chickens would be asleep. I carried her to the hen house and put her on a roost. I planned to wake up before dawn. I didn\u2019t want to miss a minute.<\/p>\n One by one, the chickens woke up and noticed the stranger. Goldie hopped down to the ground. Another chicken followed. Then another. Everyone wanted to get a look at the newcomer. C\u2019mon, Goldie, <\/em>I thought. Here\u2019s where that training pays off.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n One of the bigger chickens strutted up to Goldie, itching for a fight. Goldie stretched her neck up until she looked about six inches taller than she really was. She gave a great squawk. The other hen jumped back. No one bothered her after that.<\/p>\n Today, Goldie has become queen of the hen house. She\u2019s a tough old bird, just like me. And the best Christmas gift I ever got, proof that with God anything\u2019s <\/em>possible.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" There are two things I really love in life. One of them is music. As a boy my happiest moments were playing bluegrass on my Gene Autry guitar. So fresh snow covering the ground wasn\u2019t going to keep me from the Christmas Cantata at church. Stepping out into the night afterward with my wife, Carol […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":28529,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[191],"tags":[19],"ppma_author":[1422],"class_list":["post-19716","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-pets","tag-angels-on-earth"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n