Chicken Run

Where I grew up, in Sylmar, California, I was exposed to suburban living mixed with rural living.  What do I mean by that?  Well, I grew up in a tract home built in 1965, but around both corners there were small ranches where the residents raised various animals; horses, cows, sheep, ducks, chickens, and even a llama.  As an adult, I bought a house in that same neighborhood, and it was not unusual to wake up and find ducks or chickens in my front yard.  It was common to see people riding their horses, and training their colts to walk with a lead.  

It was an experience I took for granted, and did not realize how different my childhood was from that of Kids 4 and 5.  Kids 1, 2, and 3 lived in my old neighborhood for a while, and would walk down the street to feed the horses and cows, and see the ducks and chickens in our front yard.  But before Kids 4 and 5 were born, we moved to "true suburbia" where you don't see packs of homeless dogs roaming the streets, the police helicopter doesn't orbit the block every other night, and neighbors don't have livestock right across the street. 

The difference was glaringly apparent when I was driving Kid 5 to school one morning.  Her preschool is a five-minute drive from the house I grew up in, where my parents still live.  I chose that location because it was on my way to work and close to my dad who often picks her up from school.  The long street that leads to her school is a mixture of auto-body/vehicle repair shops, new track homes, and old large properties.  It is a landscape that I hardly notice as I am familiar thus uninterested.  In addition, I'm too busy navigating my way down a narrow street with other drivers whom traffic laws seem to be only a suggestion.  Kid 5 however, has the pleasure of taking in the sights without worry or concern.   

We passed the auto-body shops and the new track homes and Kid 5 was uncharacteristically silent.  She made up for her silence as we passed the old properties where she discovered that some of the residence have animals she'd never seen in a front yard.  

"MOMMY!" She shouted.  "I JUST SAW A CHICKEN!"  There was a thoughtful pause.  "It was a walking chicken, not an eating chicken."

It's good to know she can tell the difference between a live chicken and a McNugget.