Which came first, the chicken or the dog?
I grew up on a working apple farm in Sebastopol with my 3 other older siblings.
We also had two big dogs Elsie and Tasha, a pony named Buttermilk, a dozen chickens and an occasional cow and pig...who usually ended up at the butchers, then on our table.
The True Farm to Table family.
Our dogs were Elsie, a big Golden Retriever and Tasha, an even bigger St. Bernard.
These dogs slept in the garage on old blankets and towels like dogs should. They ate hard Alpo from giant bags mom bought at KMart and dad would add a little hot water to sauce it up and they ate it like champions.
They also loved apples. I remember during harvest and those dogs would sit under an apple tree for shade and in heaven eating apples, and as I kid I thought that was normal.
All dogs like apples, right?
Our dogs lived very long healthy lives with Alpo, Apples, fresh air and running around to their hearts desire. The only time we had to take them to the vet was an occasional foxtail in the nose. Dad took care of the rest.
Tasha also....loved those chickens and was obsessed with trying to get inside that coop which one day....she did.
The sound of the chickens that day, was like there was a massacre and Tasha escaped with Oscar the Rooster, still alive in his slobbering chops.
I screamed, mom screamed, and thank god we lived on acreage because the whole scene was crazy with a big cloud of dust and feathers, chickens flapping and screeching with their nerves shot while 110lb Tasha got out and was running around the property with Oscar like she won the cock fight....with a 2 pound Rooster.
In my little 8 year old brain I thought Karma. Oscar was an asshole. He was so scary, and scary looking.
Oscar had an extra hairy feathery claw hanging from each leg that didn’t work, just extra creepy looking. When entering the coop Oscar was there to protect his hens like he was top Watch Dog.
Furry Watch dog after the Feather Watch dog.
There was no contest with this one.
The hens were mostly likely relieved from his constant raping and pecking abuse, and us relieved from our 5am wake up cock a doodle doo.
Mom didn’t know what to do with the situation as Tasha had her way with mean Oscar, while I ran around in confusion. What do I do?
Dad came home from work early....and this is what he did.
He took dead Oscar and....he tied him around Tasha’s neck so it hung like a giant pendant necklace that swung back and forth and flopped side to side....and I thought this was normal.
St. Bernard's are accustomed to having little barrel's around their neck so to Tasha this was a no brainer.
Did it mention it was Harvest time?
Dad had our apple farm on the Sonoma County Farm Trails, and if you grew up in the 70’s and 80’s on a ranch you would know what this is.
If not...it is a giant map where guests, travelers, and mostly city folk would come to your ranch to hang out and hopefully buy what you are offering. Our was apples....and apple dolls, apple sauce, apple juice, apple anything mom concocted.
Our property was, Vista Del Valle Ranch. AKA View of the Valley, as our property overlooked the valley's of Sebastopol and the mountain's of Santa Rosa.
Guests would pull up and wander the property, and dad had the clever idea of having ‘Picnic while you Pick.’
He built and put out picnic tables all over the property where the city folk would come find one under an apple tree, and have their lunch and play in the dust and trees.
On weekends dad would fill his 1930’s Vintage Truck with hay and bounce people around the property with Tasha and Elsie as shotgun.
The folks loved it!
Day 4 of the dead Oscar Pendant, and that day I will never forget for the rest of my life...because I am writing this today so yes I never forgot.
Tasha was the friendliest greeter along with Elsie.
Most times, the guests loved seeing them charge their entering cars.
Most times, the guests took photo’s with their Kodak camera’s with the dogs in the family photo.
Most times, the guests would tell us they made their day.
But not this time.
A family in a station wagon slowly drove up our bumpy gravel driveway...I was running around outside with Buttermilk the pony because that was part of the ranch day.
All bad dogs get a dead chicken tied to their neck right?
I watched the husband driving, wife in the passenger seat, kids in the back seat of a station wagon drive up towards our lot.
Tasha the greeter....this was her time to shine.
The family parked their car and I watched Tasha in slow motion run toward the car...dead rooster necklace and all.
Mom ran out and I stood there frozen...in my overalls with Buttermilk.
Mom stood there frozen.
The kids jump out and the dad get’s out, while I saw the mom move quickly out to see, Tasha, the giant St. Bernard rushing toward them with a giant dead rooster dangling from her neck.
It didn't help that dead Oscar was possibly the scariest feathered creature ever flopping and smelling like rotten....chicken.....
The mom screamed.
My mom screamed
The kids screamed.
The dad didn’t know what to do.... Their eyes were big as apples!
I was wondering what the screaming was all about! It’s just a dog with a dead chicken necklace!
That dad backed up that station wagon like the world was ending, dust flew up and they flew outta this crazy country place like a tornado was about to hit.
Mom ran inside and....here we go again, called my dad at work to tell him yet another shenanigan on the ranch.
Not sure if the dead chicken necklace thing worked or not, but that day, Tasha was released from it and I don’t remember her ever trying to get to the chickens again.
But the good news, I could now go into the coop without being attacked by Oscar.
Flashforward 20 years later.
My fiance and I moved to one of dad’s properties where dog’s could roam and, me being pregnant, we thought 2 dogs would be a great addition to our little family.
We found Freedom at a Breeder. She was a one patched faced St. Bernard pup, and she was the cheapest since her markings weren’t perfect, but that’s what we liked.
Ketchum we bought from the scariest breeders that lived in a ramshackle hoarder singlewide property from a toothless old lady and her toothless son off Bodega Hwy.
Ketchum was the only male left so we paid the $200 for him and put him in the back of our SUV with Freedom and they were best friends at first sight.
They had full access to the property and would wander during the day and always came home at dusk.
A good dog's life.
One evening, my fiance....a city boy....who wore designer suits and italian shoes and worked in SF as a Stock Broker came home before me.
We both worked downtown SF, back when commuting to SF from Sebastopol was a piece of cake.
He calls me on my cell and starts screaming.....like my mom did 20 years earlier.
Did I mention he’s a city boy?
Flashbacks...fly through my head.
Freedom came home with a chicken in her slobbery mouth still alive and well....
Well.....well.....well....here we go again.
Our neighbor had Free Range chickens not knowing Free Dom would be the murderer.
I could only imagine what people would say on Nextdoor. Thank god there was no Nextdoor.
I don’t even know if the neighbor realized that one of his many chickens went missing.
“FREEDOM. SHE HAS A CHICKEN. SHE’S RUNNING AROUND WITH A CHICKEN AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO?”
Running around with a chicken? Like is the chicken running with her?
HUH?
I get home and there she is....while Fiance has a small hammer in his hand.
HUH? HUH?
Did I mention he was a city boy?
“WHAT DO I DO? I CAN’T KILL THE CHICKEN. SHE KEEPS STARING AT ME WITH HER LITTLE BROWN EYES. I CAN’T DO IT.”
Yeah and I’m thinking, ‘with a little hammer?”
Freedom ate her legs first so this chicken had no chance. Her time has come. Unless she was one of those Kentucky Fried chicken chickens, I saw on TV. You know the ones who don’t have legs because they are stuffed in tiny cages to just eat and be killed?
I had to call in the big guns....the reaper....Special Forces... Dad.
Dad arrived with an axe.
5 seconds later he came in and this is all he said, “OK guys, have fun, see you later!”
HUH? HUH? HUH?
I was just glad he didn’t make a chicken necklace for Freedom.
The next day mom and dad invited us over for dinner.
“So what’s for dinner mom?”
“Chicken.”
And one day I will tell you about my pet rabbit story but that’s for another time.
