I REMEMBER WHEN ONE TIME I

WAS A LITTLE GIRL GROWING UP OUT IN THE BOONEDOCKS,  MY MOM HAD BOUGHT THESE BABY CHICKS THAT CAME IN TIERED CARDBOARD BOXES. SHE SET UP THIS CONTRAPTION TO KEEP THEM WARM ONTIL THEY GOT FEATHERS.A BIG HOT LAMP PLUGGED IN AND POSITIONED SO MANY INCHES ABOVE THE FLOOR ON THE BACK PORCH.CAREFULLY ONE BY ONE SHE GENTLY PICKED UP EACH BABY CHICK,CUPPING IT IN HER HANDS COOING SOFTLY, TELLING THEM IT WAS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.THE FRANTIC CHIRPING OF ALMARMED BIRDLINGS,HARMONIZED INTO AN EXCITED SOUND THEN AS WE GIRLS MIMMICKED OUR MOTHERS VOICE,THEY SEEMED TO ACCEPTED THEIR NEW HOME ON THE NEWSPAPERS MOM HAD PLACED ON THEBROWN LINOLEM TILED FLOOR.THEY WERE STILL QUITE THE NOISE MAKERS BUT LIKE THE WILD BIRDS OUTSIDE OUR WOODLAND HOME,I CAN STILL RECALL THEIR UNIQUE SING-SONG SOUND AND IT ALWAYS MAKES ME SMILE.

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