When my father was young he spent his summers with his grandparents. It was a rural area with a lot of farms. He and his friend would ride their bikes around the farms and back to his grandparents. As they rode back down the hill towards the house, the chickens would run and flap away from their bikes. Then one day they rode down the hill and one chicken lagged behind. Upon further examination it appeared the chicken was sick. They told his grandmother about the chicken, and she came out to check on it. Clearly under the weather, they brought the chicken inside to take care of it. They took turns carrying the chicken around the house and giving it a little brandy from an eyedropper. If they needed to put the bird down they would lean him up against a wall until they were able to come back and pick him up again. The chicken started getting stronger and was back in good health in a about a week. Consequently, he was returned to the other chickens. There was one change however, from then on whenever my father rode his bike down the hill, all the chickens would scatter with the exception of this one who would come running towards him.
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