Norman Fred Wilde

Bob wanted me to write this story down, so here is the story of the Pink Chicken. My sister Ruth’s two kids, Sue Carol, and Norman, were still pretty small. I would guess that Norman was around four and Sue was maybe seven or eight. Just a guess. There was a fad going on than. Thank goodness no one does this now days. It was common to give children live chicks at Easter time. What’s more the chicks were died a pretty pastel color. Sue’s chick was pink and Normans was blue. Ruth and Fred and their kids lived in Salt Lake City, but for some reason, and I don’t remember why, they were having an extended vacation with us in Coalville. Some how Norman’s chick had “ bit-the-dust” Norman was heart broken and crying. We couldn’t consul him because eh said that his chick could not go to heaven because the can ate the chicken’s conscience. So I think that a cat must have had something to do with it. At any rate, Sue’s chick was still alive, hale and healthy. So the little pink chick came to Coalville too. At that time we had a little white kitten with a gray patch on tom of his head. These two baby animas formed a bond and were most usually together, playing and sleeping. Small animals grow up very fast. The chick quickly grew to be a young rooster, and the kitten a tomcat. But still they were friends and were commonly seen napping together on the porch swing! This often astounded customers who were staying at the motel. As the chick grew up his pink color faded. Nature would have him a white rooster, but instead he was an anemic looking pink. My sisters, Ruth and Vera, and of course, I was in on it, decided it would be great if he was pink again. And so one sunny warm morning, on the back porch, we got a big pan of warm water and red food coloring and proceeded to re-dye him pink. It was pretty messy business as Mr. Rooster wasn’t very co-operative, and we were laughing so hard we could hardly stand up. About that time the daily order of milk to the café came. We were a sight as the splashing chicken soaked us all. Here was a big pan of red water and a vet pink chicken. Have you ever seen a wet chicken? The feathers stick together and pink skin shows between. Well, we were caught, or almost caught, because Ruth quickly held the chicken behind her back. And began her charming sociability, which she was good at. “ Oh, hi good to see you,” and that sort of thing. OF cores the milkman was very curious as to what was going on, and he tried to see what Ruth had behind her back as she chattered on. She would turn this way and that he couldn’t see. Vera and I were stifling laughing. But we then noticed that the legs with wet pink feather were sticking out. So the “ jig was up” and we had to show him that in spite of a pan of red water, that nothing sinister was going on. His response was “you guys are crazy.” And he had a good laugh with us. Well the pink chicken looked much better after that. And it was even mre of a novelty when the white cat and pink rooster napped together on the porch swing. Mr. Pink Rooster grew pretty big and pretty noisy. He would crow early in the morning, waking the customers up. One time when mom went to show a motel to a potential customer, the pink rooster was discovered perched on the headboard of the bed. Well that was it. Mom said he had to go. Sue Carol was grief stricken. Where could he go? We certainly couldn’t make chicken soup out of him. Arrangements were finally made for him to live with the chickens at the other grandma and grandpas chick coop over on the other side of town. How could we get him there? My dad said that there was a big old birdcage up in the garage, so Sue found it. Luckily it was a big cage. The pink chicken went into the cage, at that moment, Sue started to cry again. But she bravely hung the cage on the handlebars of her bike and pedaled off, crying all the way, the cage with the big pink rooster wildly swinging to and fro.

Bob wanted me to write this story down, so here is the story of the Pink Chicken. My sister Ruth’s two kids, Sue Carol, and Norman, were still pretty small. I would guess that Norman was around four and Sue was maybe seven or eight. Just a guess. There was a fad going on than. Thank goodness no one does this now days. It was common to give children live chicks at Easter time. What’s more the chicks were died a pretty pastel color. Sue’s chick was pink and Normans was blue. Ruth and Fred and their kids lived in Salt Lake City, but for some reason, and I don’t remember why, they were having an extended vacation with us in Coalville. Some how Norman’s chick had “ bit-the-dust” Norman was heart broken and crying. We couldn’t consul him because eh said that his chick could not go to heaven because the can ate the chicken’s conscience. So I think that a cat must have had something to do with it. At any rate, Sue’s chick was still alive, hale and healthy. So the little pink chick came to Coalville too. At that time we had a little white kitten with a gray patch on tom of his head. These two baby animas formed a bond and were most usually together, playing and sleeping. Small animals grow up very fast. The chick quickly grew to be a young rooster, and the kitten a tomcat. But still they were friends and were commonly seen napping together on the porch swing! This often astounded customers who were staying at the motel. As the chick grew up his pink color faded. Nature would have him a white rooster, but instead he was an anemic looking pink. My sisters, Ruth and Vera, and of course, I was in on it, decided it would be great if he was pink again. And so one sunny warm morning, on the back porch, we got a big pan of warm water and red food coloring and proceeded to re-dye him pink. It was pretty messy business as Mr. Rooster wasn’t very co-operative, and we were laughing so hard we could hardly stand up. About that time the daily order of milk to the café came. We were a sight as the splashing chicken soaked us all. Here was a big pan of red water and a vet pink chicken. Have you ever seen a wet chicken? The feathers stick together and pink skin shows between. Well, we were caught, or almost caught, because Ruth quickly held the chicken behind her back. And began her charming sociability, which she was good at. “ Oh, hi good to see you,” and that sort of thing. OF cores the milkman was very curious as to what was going on, and he tried to see what Ruth had behind her back as she chattered on. She would turn this way and that he couldn’t see. Vera and I were stifling laughing. But we then noticed that the legs with wet pink feather were sticking out. So the “ jig was up” and we had to show him that in spite of a pan of red water, that nothing sinister was going on. His response was “you guys are crazy.” And he had a good laugh with us. Well the pink chicken looked much better after that. And it was even mre of a novelty when the white cat and pink rooster napped together on the porch swing. Mr. Pink Rooster grew pretty big and pretty noisy. He would crow early in the morning, waking the customers up. One time when mom went to show a motel to a potential customer, the pink rooster was discovered perched on the headboard of the bed. Well that was it. Mom said he had to go. Sue Carol was grief stricken. Where could he go? We certainly couldn’t make chicken soup out of him. Arrangements were finally made for him to live with the chickens at the other grandma and grandpas chick coop over on the other side of town. How could we get him there? My dad said that there was a big old birdcage up in the garage, so Sue found it. Luckily it was a big cage. The pink chicken went into the cage, at that moment, Sue started to cry again. But she bravely hung the cage on the handlebars of her bike and pedaled off, crying all the way, the cage with the big pink rooster wildly swinging to and fro.