#18 - The Element of Surprise
Surprise is an interesting state of mind. By its very nature it's a short-lived and dramatic phenomenon that causes a person to give his complete and full attention to the matter. Whether or not surprise can be considered an emotion, I'm not sure, but the usual reaction in the first instant of a surprise bears close resemblance to a flash of panic and fear.
Practically all creatures encounter surprises of one sort and another during their lifetimes. That includes man, who for example is initiated into a life of surprises by a Jack-in-the- Box, graduates to the more hardcore thumbtack in the chair, and later on to the unexpected slap across the face. Surprise, unlike other momentary events, commands all the senses connected to survival instinct, if even only for an instant, yet seems to mostly render them useless (as in "frozen") should any clearly thought out, lightning-quick action be required.
Chickens for example, I have noticed over the years, live a life so full of surprises that any serious examination of what surprise entails would almost certainly land on these feathery, cackling "guinea pigs" as the ultimate subjects for research. They are dependably skittish, and their diminutive brains pretty much guarantee that no higher thought process will interfere to cloud the data; you can count on them to react the same way time and time again for good, consistent results. All chickens might not look alike but they sure act pretty much alike.
My hen house is a well-appointed affair, attractively shingled with white trim and a red door. It has lots of light and is well-ventilated. The roosts (old spars from a retired sailboat) are comfortable, and the nest boxes are private and amply lined with fresh shavings once a week. The litter on the floor is fluffed and replenished as often as necessary, and there is always plenty of laying mash available as well as sweet rainwater in their water trough, which is filled to the brim with every shower. Their yard is spacious and delightfully landscaped with an apple tree and an old hollow log to investigate and wander through. Towering over their world is a great, spreading red oak tree. Chickens never had it so good. Yet these birds of mine are such a hysterical bunch of biddies I don't think they've ever taken the time to notice.
The oak tree has had a very good year too. As I tilt my head way back, I can spot fist-sized clusters of acorns - bushels of them. Fat little surprises waiting to happen are what they are - each with a little round head, each wearing a hat and, with imagination, each wearing a demonic little grin.
Of late, these "acorn-men" surprises have all been awaiting their chances to get a rise out of the chickens taking dust baths and scratching around on the ground below. Seeing a black and gold hen peering through the hollow log, an acorn sees a perfect opportunity - THUNK! on the log, and the black and gold jumps with a startled squawk, scrambling and flapping off in a headlong panic, complaining loudly and distrustfully watching that suspicious hollow log.
The next acorn gleefully watches my pretty Silver Spangled Hamburg taking lady-like sips at the water trough, tilting her head up to swallow - such a peaceful moment - PLOP! The Hamburg's surprise and terror send her splashing the full length of that water trough and off across the yard - the proverbial wet hen.
Day after day the acorns drop . . . and the hens are always surprised. Sometimes the surprise is several orders bigger than before; it doesn't take much, just a little timing. One day my son, Lije, burst suddenly through the door of the hen house on his way to collect eggs. I happened at that moment to be looking at the small chicken door at the back of the henhouse, and what happened next was most likely the wildest moment of mayhem that old oak tree had ever witnessed. In instant reaction to that unexpected intrusion, twenty-four multi-colored hens of every description fairly exploded out of that little door with such a cloud of dust and feathers that it was a full minute before it all settled. I could only imagine the scene inside that henhouse! Coughing and spluttering at the front door, I could hear Lije yell, "Holy cow! That surprised the crap out of me!"
That's the best of the best: a hilarious, back-to-back, double-header, "don't-panic-folks, nobody-got-hurt" kind of surprise.