When they travel: The first two

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Farm duty week two day one. The attack of the raccoon.

Every day after work the chores are the same. Gather the eggs, refill the food, wash and refill the water tank. For the first seven days, it was simple and it was easy. It was almost enjoyable to come home and water the plants, gather the fallen fruit and repeat it all the next day. Then Monday the 10th of September. That afternoon, I come home and found two dead chickens. One had its entire stomach exposed, bones sticking out, and thick black/blue mosquitoes hovering.

Disgusted, shocked, and panicking as the dialing begins.

Dad has buried several chickens, but why won't he answer his phone? Mom knows how to fix farm life crisis, but why won't she messaged me back? Uncle can always reach grandmother, but why is every member of my entire family ignoring me!! Maybe I should message papa-pepper, or my moms' friends, or anyone for help; I thought to myself. Then my brother answers. Deep breath. "Bro, I need uncles number. Parent's aren't answering and I need to ask them something right now." Phone uncle, he gives me grandmothers landline. I use WhatsApp to call everyone and still no answer. A painful twenty minutes pass and my father calls me back.

DAD!!! TWO CHICKENS ARE DEAD, TWO CHICKENS ARE OUTSIDE THE HEN, ONE OF WHICH I HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE AND PROPERLY ATTACKED THE OTHER CHICKENS THAT ARE NOW DEAD... I HAVE NOOOOOOOOooooooo IDEA WHAT TO DO!

Dad: Oh no, that raccoon must be back. You properly aren't recognizing that chicken, but she's been there the whole time. How many chickens do we have total?
Kubby: Thirteen. How many are we supposed to have?
Dad: Fifteen, are you counting the dead ones too?
Kubby: Yes, counting the two dead ones and the two that escaped we are missing two.
Dad: Ugh, they must be escaping in the morning. Don't worry, all you have to do now is use a shovel to dig a deep hole in the far corner of the garden. Bury the dead ones and I'll deal with the raccoon when I get home, but if you see it scare it away with the hose.

Silence

Kubby: Daddy, I can't touch it, I've never dug a hole in my life, what makes you think I can do any of that? I need help, I need you to come home, I need you to phone a farmer friend to come to rescue me, and I cannot touch those dead bodies.
Dad: You can do this! If you don't want to move the dead chickens just bury them inside the hen.
Kubby: Daddy, help me! I can't touch it, it's so gross.
Dad: YOU CAN DO THIS annnnnd call your brother for help.
Kubby: Brilliant, that is why you have more than one child. Okay, Bye!

Reminded of a conversation. Thoughts I thought before calling and afterward.

A while ago, I joked with close friends about burying dead bodies. I asked them, out of curiosity, if they would help me bury a dead body? They too quickly and confidently said no. This is why we have siblings. Brother was stuck in traffic for eternity of ten minutes. I was hyperventilating in a corner, and couldn't wait any longer. After another minute of panic, I gathered any ounce of courage within me and grabbed a shoveled.

The digging or attempt thereof began.

Mind you, this is nothing like what you see in the movies. As each attempt at making this impossible hole failed, I thought I should look it up. YouTube can teach me to do anything and solve this mystery hole digging talent that I lack. The only searchable phrase that came to mind was how to dig a hole to bury bodies.

Best not to search that. In case they ask questions later. Let me try again.

Digging is/was painful. It was an extremely hot day and dirt is heavy. It made me wonder how, in the world, do they make those perfect squares holes in the movies? Then my shovel broke in half. Great! Now I have to go buy another. Thankfully dad had a spare. The shovel was roughly a meter in length, roughly 3/4 feet tall. When I had to squat to reach the bottom of this hole I hopped it was deep enough.

My brother still hadn't arrived, I after another panicked call, he said he was rushing as best he could through traffic.

A minute later, I couldn't wait any longer, and I went into the hen to attempt to pick up the dead. You wouldn't believe how heavy it was. I cried, I looked at the screen door hoping my brother would reappear, and I carried it to the hole. The second chicken was further, behind our massive mango tree. I couldn't reach it. It had to be dragged with the shovel. I ended up grabbing its foot and again walking in tears to the grave site.

Tears of despair and disgust.

But, the worst was over and after getting one of the chickens back in the hen, my brother arrives. Filled with relief, anger, and joy as he finally makes his way over... He hasn't been catching the chickens all week like I have so I really enjoyed watching him chase the chicken around. It takes him a few minutes to trap the chicken and guide it back to the hen. He helps cover the holes and soon leaves. There were still two chickens missing, but my mom later tells me one of the neighbors found it and would bring it in the morning.

Just when I thought the worst was over. Day two started.

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