My Chores

Getting Ready, Heading Outside and The Final Steps

Getting Ready

My chores consist of having to take care of my four chickens and my two Muscovy ducks. To be honest, I don’t like doing my chores. However, sometimes… I can really enjoy it. To start off I’ll point out that whenever my mom tells me that it is chore time- I groan every time. Eventually, after all my groaning and whining, I always let my dogs out to do chores. As I walk out to the kitchen, towards the back door, I imagine seeing the dogs perk their heads up and scramble to the door; their noisy claws clattering across the linoleum.

Once the dogs are let outside, I go to the garage. There, I scoop up two buckets of chicken/duck food out of a large tin trash can. I’m careful to avoid scraping the lid of the can against the body. I hate that sound. When I finish with the food cans, I head inside with a gallon jug to fill in the sink. I let my mind wander with the comforting sound of the rushing water from the sink faucet and the echoing splash of the jug. My mind comes back to Earth once I hear the water spilling out of the now completely filled jug. I quickly grab the jug and rush outside, eager to finish up.

Heading Outside

Walking across my lawn, breathing in the fresh air, I hear the flapping sound of wings getting closer and closer- Daphne. Every day Daphne, my duck, flies to me when I head out to do chores. She’s an amazing flyer. By the time Daphne lands I start to hear a new sound. A silent hissing takes the place of Daphne’s beating wings. I instantly know the second that I hear it that it’s my other duck, Dexter. He’s waddling as fast as he can after me, nearly falling over in the process. Once I near the chicken pen the chickens finally notice me. The fluttery pat of the chicks’ feet race to the door, as they huddle together to be as close to the door as physically possible.

The Final Steps

I finally begin the next part of my normal routine. I walk briskly to the ducks’ food and water tubs and fill them up before the ducks approach and overwhelm me. As I pass them I try my best to keep from walking too close. They seem to think I’m threatening them when I walk too close, so I keep a safe distance. Completely unlike the ducks, the chickens have no regard for personal bubbles. I open the door to their pen only enough to slip through without any of the slippery chicks escaping out the door. Once I’m in there and all of the chickens are crowding around my feet, stepping and pecking at my toes, I stumble towards the chicken food buckets- attempting to avoid stomping on their feet. I pour their food and water, collect the eggs, and slide back out the door while the chickens are occupied with the food. I walk back up to my house and put everything back to their original spots. Ready for tomorrow’s round of chores.