Chicken-and-Egg Tale in Hurricane Creek

Here is an excerpt from Roy Thomas’ collection of interviews, as transcribed by him. The story was told by Marion “Doc” Davis in 1970, when he was at least 96 years old and living in Hurricane Creek, Ark.:

“One sprang, way back when I wuz jist a little feller--8 or 9-year-old--one day, my mother said to me, she sez, ‘Son, go out thar an’ see if they ain’t some little baby chickens under that ol’ hen.’ She sez, ‘If I’ve been a-keepin’ count good, today--ur tomorrer, one--will make 21 days since I set that ol’ hen. . . . ‘ “

“I seed ‘er put 16 eggs in that nest that she fixed in a old basket that Pappa nailed on the side uv the barn, up about three foot above the ground. . . .

“Well, that bushel-basket wuz too high far me ta see over the top uv it, a-standing on th’ ground, but I was anxious to check on them little bitty chickens. So I got up on the side uv the basket that the ground wuz higher an tip-toed so’s I could reach over in that nest. I could reach in, but I couldn’t see in. . . .

“Down in the nest, whur that hen orta be, they wuz some-pin that felt mighty peculiar.

“Right off, I run over to the wood-pile an’ got the biggest stick of wood I could hardly carry, an I set it up right thar by that nest. I balanced m’se’f by holdin on to the logs uv th barn an then I stepped on that stick uv firewood so’s I could look over thar in that basket.

“Bo-o-oy! Cwiled around in that nest wuz the biggest ol’ chicken snake I ever seen in my life. He’d swallered ever one a them sixteen eggs. . . . “

“When I got back thar with that hoe, that sharp hoe, his head wuz a-stickin out, jist barely over the top uv that ol’ basket, a-fixin tuh slither somewhurs, probably back under the barn. . . .

“It wuz a lucky hit, an it purt-near’t cut that varmint’s head plum off. It killed ‘im. Dead.

” . . . I got holt on that ol’ snake’s tail, an I lifted it up real high. An then, right off, one a them eggs chugged outa that snake. I give that ol’ tail a little jerk, an some more eggs rolled out inta that nest. . . .

“Well, I warshed ‘um as quick as I could, dried ‘um, an’ then put ‘um back. An as quick as me an Momma got back away fum that nest, wy, that ol’ hen shore-nuff, she got back on that nest, on them eggs.”

“Well! Next day, I went back out there an looked in that basket, that nest--that stick a firewood wuz still thar, an I wud-ent about tuh put m’hand in that nest till I looked in it. An thar they wuz--sixteen uv th purtiest little bitty baby chickens ye ever seen in ye life.”