Woodrow and The Superchicken

There is, in the hills, a tradition of storytelling, tales that I’ve heard from various and sundry people all my life. They were told to me as gospel truth and, it’s as gospel truth that I repeat them. A lot of the names have been changed, not to protect the innocent because the innocent don’t need protection but for the sake of the guilty who need all the help they can get.
Justin Other Smith


Ballard was kind’a antsy and began to plan a trip to Ohio. He tried to enlist Gaylord and Woody by telling them how much fun it was gonna be but Gaylord was in love and Woodrow wasn’t quite sure how he would explain his abscence ‘cause he was pretty sure that Grandpa John Sam wouldn’t approve.
Anyway, Ballard went alone. He stripped off his clothes and wrapped them around his shoes and tied the sleeves of the shirt into a knot that would keep the bundle together. He found a small log and balanced his bundle on it and shoved off for the Ohio side. Now that old river was durn near a mile wide. At least that’s what it seemed like as Ballard kicked along. He was just past midway when a paddlewheeler running light came down river and swamped him. He managed to hang on to the log but he lost his bundle so when he reached the Ohio shore he was naked as a jaybird.
Ain’t nothin’ much fazed Ballard. It was dark so he just picked his way up the riverbank and took a little stroll through the alleys of Portsmouth. Wasn’t too long before he found a clothesline where the clothes hadn’t been taken in. It only took a few minutes and a little more suitably dressed he proceeded on his way.
Now I’ve heard several versions of his adventures and they were darn near as changeable as Kentucky weather but they ain’t what this story is about anyway.
‘Cause when Ballard returned, when he came walking down Leatherwood, he had himself a travelling companion. And nobody ever got the straight of it out of Ballard either. About how he come by his hiking buddy. ‘Cause ever’ time he told the why and wherefore, he give out with a different version.
About how somewhere along the way he’d met up with the biggest durn rooster anybody’d ever seen. A big old white rooster that stood near as tall as Ballards hip.
Now that chicken was wearing a dog leash and Ballard was holding t’other end of it but Woodrow swore and be durned that the chicken was leadin’ Ballard.
Ballard could go up to him and sit down and put his arm around him and talk to him and that chicken was just like a big old pet dog. But anybody else needed to have a club handy ‘cause that old rooster was just plain antisocial. And not just around people neither. He put the eye out of one of Uncle John Sams pigs and he tried to take on the mules ‘til one of ‘em fetched him a pretty good kick. He kind’a sidestepped around ‘em after that but he sure went after ever’one and ever’thing else on the place. Uncle John Sam allowed that it was the meanest durn chicken he’d ever seen.
Woodrow, however, being a thinking young man ‘n always scheming about his future, thought that the big rooster was gonna be the foundation for a whole flock of super-sized chickens that would lay super-sized eggs and make ‘em all rich. Turned out though that the rooster was just a freak of nature and for all his struttin’ and crowin’ all they ever got was normal sized eggs and normal sized chickens and Woodrow got a little discouraged and a little tired of having to carry a club ever’ time he went into the chickenyard.
One day Walter Darnell stopped by and got a glimpse of that rooster and was almighty impressed and wanted to trade for him. Woodrow found it difficult to resist a trade in the first place and in the second place, he was almighty tired of arguing with that rooster. And since Walter was married to Uncle John Sam’s niece which made Walter more or less family, it didn’t take too much for Woodrow to let Walter talk him into a trade.
Wasn’t but three or four weeks later Ballard was sittin’ in Moon’s Barber Shop, not to get his hair cut but just to pass the time of day when Walter Darnell came in. Ballard let out a big hello and commenced to tell all and sundry about his big pet rooster that cousin Woodrow had traded to Walter. Walter didn’t say much until Ballard got around to asking him how the rooster was doing out there on Big White Oak where Walter had a small farm.
Walter looked at Ballard, glanced around the shop at the rest of the boys and said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Ballard, my wife Laurie is a pretty good cook but she had to stew that old rooster almost a whole day before we could eat him up.”