At first I busied myself with rewarding the simple-minded chickens with a half can of genetically modified ground corn. They didn't notice and made no complaint as they trotted over from their worn holes in the back of the coop where they had been dusting themselves. Prior to tossing the grain, I noticed one of the Barred Rocks draped in her hole, wing out, head extended to one side, just laying there as if almost dead. Her eye was partially closed as she absorbed the warm sun. Chicken bliss.
The grain was but a momentary disruption as afternoon dusting with a full crop was the ultimate American Dream. A little frankencorn and it was back to the wallow.
Even the leaves of the grapes seemed to stretch out reaching for the last sun of the year. Frost was in the air and grapes take an early hit, so why not reach out for the last throes of summer.
Passing through the backyard, I paused and lifted my head upward to feel the chicken sun. I didn't need to dust but I did need to feel it and it was good. The fall sun was probably too far south now to work on my savage tan but still warming to the soul. I could not help but hesitate and take it, maybe dreaming of other warm suns in other places, maybe with my lover.
It was at that moment I glanced to a spot on the upper part of the solar panels. There had been a movement, a tiny movement that one commonly sees in the forest while hunting, the movement of an animal. There on top of the panel was a squirrel stretched out in a trough. I had seen his ear move, probably to ward off a fly. He lay motionless. As I looked harder I couldn't but help to notice his eyes were closed and his body was laid out pushed toward the sun.
He was sleeping, absorbing the sun much like the chickens and much like I had been doing. It was the American Dream. A full belly and a face to the sun, warmth. What a way to go.
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