The Chicken Chasing Queen Of Lamar County

Hi friend,

Welcome back.

I'm so happy that you joined me again today.

My name is Teresa Marie and tonight I'm going to read you a story by author Janice N.

Harrington with illustrated pictures by Shelly Jackson.

And this book is called The Chicken Chasing Queen of Lamar County and you are about to meet one smart chicken chaser.

She can catch any chicken on her grandma's farm except for one,

The elusive Miss Hen.

So,

If you haven't already,

Make sure you've had your sip of water and used the restroom if needed so that you can find a comfortable position relaxing or maybe laying down on your bed.

Get your pillow,

A blanket,

Anything that you like to make you feel more comfortable,

Your favorite item or toy to be with you to snuggle.

And as we begin to slow down,

You can close your eyes if you feel comfortable and safe to do so.

And let's take a couple of deep breaths together.

We can breathe in through the nose and blow it out through the mouth.

Let's do it again.

In through the nose and blow it out through the mouth.

Let the frustrations of your day begin to melt away as you relax and listen to the sound of my voice.

Disagreements or fights with friends or family can just be placed to the side if we had any so that we can free up our mind and give our brain a break.

They like to listen to stories too.

So here we go.

The Chicken Chasing Queen of Lamar County by Janice N.

Harrington.

I'm the Chicken Chasing Queen of Lamar County.

Big Mama says,

Don't you chase those chickens.

If you make those girls crazy,

They won't lay eggs.

You like eggs,

Don't you?

But I don't care.

Soon as I wake up,

Wash away the dreaming,

And brush my teeth whiter than a biscuit,

I always do three things.

Eat breakfast,

Tell stories to Big Mama,

And when Big Mama isn't looking,

Chase chickens.

I go sneaking up on those chickens real slow,

Real easy,

And then freeze and make myself as still as the sunlight.

And those chickens hold still too.

One leg raised in the air,

Just waiting to step off.

Broke,

Broke,

Which must be chicken for what is she up to this time?

And then squawk.

I love chasing chickens.

I do,

I do.

Big Mama says,

Baby,

Behave yourself.

Leave those chickens alone.

But I can't help it.

I try hard to be good,

But I am the Chicken Chasing Queen of Lamar County.

I don't want just any chicken.

I want my favorite.

Her feathers are shiny as a rained on roof.

She has high yellow stockings and long fingered feet.

And when she talks,

It sounds like pennies falling on the dinner table.

I call her Miss Hen,

And she's plump as a Sunday purse,

Just waiting for me to pick her up.

I never do,

Though.

I never even get close.

Miss Hen is as fast as a mosquito buzzing and quick as a flea bite.

Her Miss Hen and I have an understanding.

I do my best to catch her,

And she does her best not to get caught.

But just you wait and see.

I am one smart chicken chaser.

This morning,

I ate breakfast.

I told Big Mama stories,

And now I'm going after Miss Hen.

Big Mama calls,

Girl,

Are you chasing those chickens?

You know what I told you about that.

No,

Ma'am,

I'm not chasing chickens.

Nope.

This morning,

I'm thinking,

What will I need to catch Miss Hen?

Should I take a rope?

Nope.

This hen's too fast.

Should I try some cornbread?

Big Mama says you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.

And I know just what kind of honey Miss Hen likes.

When Big Mama isn't looking,

I skip all around the yard,

Shimmying,

Shaking cornbread from my pockets.

Crumbs falling out like a yellow necklace.

Then,

I sneaky hide behind Big Mama's wheelbarrow and make myself small,

Small,

Small.

I don't have to wait long.

One by one,

Mr.

Rooster and the chicken ladies come stepping by.

Pickety scratch,

Pick.

Pickety scratch,

Peck.

Beaks down,

Bottoms up.

Chickens clucking,

Squabbling,

Squawking.

But where's Miss Hen?

Can I see her?

Pequoia!

Chicken feathers flapping in every direction.

Miss Hen is gone before I even get a good look at her.

Big Mama says you can do anything you put your mind to if you want it bad enough.

I want Miss Hen.

I stand watching those chickens,

But I pretend I'm not.

These chickens are watching me,

And I'm watching them.

I think all kinds of chicken thoughts so they won't know I'm up to something.

Corn,

I think.

Bright,

Shiny knuckles of yellow corn.

Eggs,

Eggs,

Eggs.

Golden brown eggs.

All warm,

Warm,

Warm.

Cornbread,

Cornbread.

Crumble and crumble bread.

Worms,

Slurms.

Swishy,

Mishy,

Ickly,

Tickly worms.

I stand so still even my shadow gets bored and starts to walk off.

And just when I'm about to grow feathers,

Along steps Miss Hen.

I peek at her out of the corner of my eye.

Keep still,

Keep still.

And then,

Squawk!

I frog jump after Miss Hen,

Brown legs kicking,

Arms flapping,

Pigtails sailing.

Miss Hen goes flying,

Beak clacking,

Yellow legs scooting,

Quick,

Quick,

Quick.

And gone!

That chicken got away again.

I go and sit by the back step,

Take a drink from the silver dipper.

Chasing chickens is hard work.

Seems like,

These days,

Miss Hen makes herself as hard to find as she is to catch.

Where does she hide?

Under the porch?

In the cool shade?

No.

By the wellhouse?

Scratching for worms?

No.

Over by the fish pond,

Pecking for bugs?

No.

Where is that hen?

And then I hear it.

Over by Big Mama's summer cook stove in the tall,

Tall grass.

I hear something soft and low.

Pew,

Pew,

Pew.

I high step.

I stand still.

I see soft yellow shapes.

Molasses easy.

And I crouch down low.

Molasses slow.

And I pull the grass aside.

And there,

On a nest of brown eggs,

With three baby chicks already hatched,

Sits Miss Hen.

So this is where she's been.

Miss Hen looks at me steady and hard,

Her eyes knife bright,

Her beak raised like a sharp question.

She hunkers down but she doesn't move.

Miss Hen is so close that my fingers tickle.

I know for sure I could snatch her up.

My toes start to itch,

Getting ready to leap.

I could do it.

I could snatch her up and run like the wind blowing.

I could.

I know I could.

But I don't.

I look at those fuzzy chicks,

Cuddling tight beneath her wing.

Pew,

Pew,

Pew.

They sing.

Don't you worry,

Miss Hen,

I say.

I know you're a mama now.

You're doing what you need to do and I won't trouble your babies.

Miss Hen settles back into her nest.

Prock,

Prock,

Prock.

That must be chicken fur.

Phew,

That girl's not as bad as I thought.

Now,

Every day Miss Hen goes strutting by like the Fourth of July parade with twelve chicks right behind her.

Pew,

Pew,

Prock.

Pew,

Pew,

Pew,

Prock.

Pew,

Pew,

Pew,

Pew,

Prock.

Prock.

Big mama says,

You never know how I used to be a chicken chaser.

And it's true.

I'm so good.

I can't believe it's me.

Every morning I throw crushed corn out for Miss Hen and her babies.

I catch grasshoppers and I dig for worms to give to the chicks.

I even keep an eye out for chicken sneaking weasels and egg sucking snakes.

I bet that old rooster thinks it's too good to be true.

Hoo,

Hoo,

Hoo.

Big mama says,

Good things come to those who wait.

So I'm waiting for Miss Hen's chicks to grow up and then I'm going to teach them to run so fast that no one will ever catch them.

Not even a chicken chaser like me.

The End.

Thank you so much for joining me today.

I hope you enjoyed my story.

I really enjoyed reading it to you.

It's one of my favorite books.

If you'd like and have the time,

Keep still and keep relaxing.

Sitting or laying here for a few more minutes,

Either before heading on to sleep or continuing on with your day.

I just wanted you to know that you are such a miracle to so many people and I don't want you to ever forget it.

And when I say namaste,

It means the light in me sees the light in you.

And so until next time,

Namaste sweetheart.