So the old man was walking along the sidewalk and saw a chicken on a stoop.
“My, what a beautiful bird you are. What are you called?”
“Why I am a White Leghorn” the bird said proudly. “What are you called?”
“Mr. Red Flower”, he said.
When the chicken heard this it made a mad dash past him. “Out of my way” it clucked with a ferocity not commonly known among chickens. A desperate need drove the white foul feathered fowl to disregard safety and its own personal dignity. It lowered its head to shoulder level and with neck stretched out to make a not so sleek profile, prepared to flee. With a steady gaze, not looking to the left or the right, the bird ran into the road and legs quickly pumping to an rock ‘n roll beat, made its way across the road. An approaching car slammed on its brakes narrowly avoiding this tufted bird. It quickly continued on its way and jumped onto the sidewalk and dashed between two houses closely spaced together. Cautiously, the chicken poked his head out. One well rounded eye, gold rimmed and coldly peering, looked at the man across the road. Ah the poor little thing was quaking as it struggled for its breath.
The man, puzzled, crossed the road and asked what was wrong. The chicken drew its head, beak and all, back out of sight. The man called quietly to the chicken. The bird would not reveal himself. Again the man spoke but this time cooed like a pigeon. “Cooooo… why are you so afraid?”
Tentatively the chicken poked its beak out and said “I am afraid of you.”
“Why” the man asked?
“You want to kill and eat me.”
“Nonsense” said the man, “why would you think that?”
“You hunt birds for a living” said the chicken.
The man laughed at the poor bird… “I said my name is Flower not Fowler.”
So now you know why the chicken crossed the road… it had dyslexic hearing.
