Peckish - Rootbeer Goes to Austin - Part 4

If you have no idea what in the Fabiola is going on here --
the story starts here

Continues here

then goes to there

wound around here

And now it continues ... (but doesn't end, somehow you knew that would happen dealing with the Fab, now didn't you?)

Root-beer (the traveling chicken) Goes to Austin Part 4


Awaking from her long nap safe in the branches of the Treaty Oak, Root-beer realized that she was a little peckish. "What chicken wouldn’t be after all the adventures I have had" clucked Root-beer to herself. Fanning the air towards her nose with her wing, Root-beer realized that she could smell peach cobbler baking somewhere nearby. You may not know this but chickens have a fine ability to detect scents and Root-beer had a particularly acute sense of smell and wild fondness for fresh baked peach cobbler.
Root-beer carefully put her hat back on top of her head and re-fastened it with the hat pin that helped her to escape from the mini-van then jumped down from her perch in the Treaty Oak to the lawn.
Root-beer’s fine sense of chicken smell told her that the peach cobbler was baking to the south- west, so she trotted down Baylor Street to 5th street where her nose turned her left. Just a few hundred feet later, a right turn took her to North Lamar Boulevard. Root-beer followed North Lamar Boulevard for about a half mile smiling and waving at the folks out and about on this fine evening, almost everyone waved back, although some of them looked a little confused. In a hurry now, Root-beer scampered left on Riverside and followed that until Haywood Avenue and the smell of peach cobbler were just to the right.
As Root-beer was just arriving, someone was exiting a door that lead to the wonderful smell that she had been following, so in she scooted and sat down at a table at the world famous Threadgill’s. Being a well brought up chicken, Root-beer ordered glazed carrots for dinner (Root-beer’s mother, like all mothers everywhere and every when, told Root-beer to eat all her vegetables before desert), and the wonderful peach cobbler the smell of which she had been following all the way from the Treaty Oak.










When dinner was done and every last scrap of carrots and cobbler was cleaned up, Root-beer headed out the door to the sidewalk where she started planning how she was going to get back to the Farmer’s market.

Escape - Rootbeer Goes to Austin - Part 3

There she was, Rootbeer the Traveling Chicken locked in a cage in the back of a mini-van, anticipating a life in a suburban Texas back yard.


"This is not for the birds" said Rootbeer in her cage as the mini-van loaded down with the nice little girl (that wanted a really truly free range chicken) and her family headed west on 4th street.

Rootbeer's cage leaned to the left as Nice Little Girl's Mom turned right (a little bit too fast for Rootbeer's taste) on San Antonio street. Then there was the left at west 6th street where a bright blue sportster stopped almost clear of the intersection and the rider would have had a start at how close the front of his bike came to the side of the mini-van, had he not been flirting with the pretty blonde in the convertible camaro to his right. Then it was left again at Baylor Street, a quick swoop into a parking spot and everyone, Nice Little Girl, Mom, Brother and Dad all tumbled out of the mini-van. Dad popped up the back window of the mini-van because everyone knows that you shouldn't leave a chicken cooped up in the back of a closed vehicle in the sun, even if you are only going to look at the Treaty Oak for just a minute.

While the family took photos in front of the famous but sadly smaller tree, Rootbeer realized that this was her only chance at escape. Removing a hat pin from her hat (how else did you think that Rootbeer kept her hat on?), Rootbeer pushed up from below on the pin in the latch for her cage with the hat pin and grabbed the top with her beak. Pulling the pin out, allowed the hasp to fall over and the cage door to swing open. Wasting not a second, Rootbeer flew out the open back window (chickens can fly you know - just not very far -- but Rootbeer IS a traveling chicken, she practiced), scampered across the park lawn and before anyone in the Nice Family could notice, Rootbeer flew up into the branches of the Treaty Oak, where she tucked her head under her wing where she started a very long nap.

Rootbeer Shops At Farmer's Market - Rootbeer Goes to Austin - Part 2

After and exhilarating ride into the city, Rootbeer arrived at the farmer’s market. As the farmer’s truck came to a stop next to his vegetable stall, Rootbeer held her purse in her beak and flew down to the ground.

Rootbeer walked from stall to the next first looking at sweet corn, eggplant and fresh fruit. She stopped at one stall and was looking over some particularly nice McIntosh apples when she heard the voice of a little girl.

“Oh, Mommy look! A really truly free range chicken!” A perfectly clean, perfectly dressed little girl exclaimed. “Can we take her home? She could share Darling’s dog house and give us fresh eggs for breakfast in the morning!”

Rootbeer dropped the apple that she was holding and stared at the little girl. “No thank you little girl” Rootbeer clucked. “I am a country chicken, you look like a city girl and while I am certain that you are very nice, I bet that you have Koi in a pond in your yard and not one single armadillo.” “I bet that you couldn’t protect me from a rattlesnake like my people did.” No, no little girl, I am not going home with ack!!”

Rootbeer ended her clucking with an "ack" because the apple vendor had just plopped a wooden chicken crate over Rootbeer’s head and she was trapped.

“Twenty-Two fifty should cover the chicken and the transport crate.” Said the apple vendor.

So off in a crate Rootbeer rode, through the farmer’s market and into the back of a mini van where the back hatch door shut with a thud that sounded like the end of the world to Rootbeer.

Rootbeer (The Traveling Chicken) Goes to Austin -- Part 1

Because Sister J, wouldn't let Rootbeer (the Traveling Chicken) go for a ride in the car, Rootbeer decided to arrange other transportation. She trotted down the driveway, flew into a cedar tree that hangs over the road, and waited.

Rootbeer looked for a vehicle headed towards Austin. Before long, she spotted a neighbor farmer's truck loaded down with turnips. That truck must be headed to the farmer's market, thought Rootbeer to herself. So when the truck drove under the tree that she was sitting in, she jumped.

Rootbeer had a few moments of concern when she reailzed that chicken claws don't hold very well on painted metal surfaces. Fortunately, she slid back onto the piled up turnips. Chicken claws hold very well on piles of root vegetables. So Rootbeer (the Traveling Chicken) headed towards Austin.

Traveling Chickens

Rootbeer the Traveling Chicken follows Sister J (and the kids) everywhere they go outside. One day Sister J loaded the kids into the car and was about to drive away from the Tall Small House when "scratch, scratch, scratch" she heard the sound of tiny nails on the floormats in the back seat.

"Is that chicken in the car?" Sister J. asked the kids.
Laughing, the kids replied "what makes you think that?"
"I can hear toenails scratching on the floor" was Sister J's reply.

So Sister J swung around and looked over the back of the front seat.
"Chicken, get out of my car!" Said Sister J to Rootbeer.

Rootbeer (the Traveling chicken ) tried to remain where she was but Sister J (always a determined gal) shooed Rootbeer back out into the yard. Where Rootbeer, no doubt, started planning her next attempt at adventure.