The next morning, I take Pochi and Tama to pops’ place.
“Make sure you listen to him. And don’t peck at people.”
And not just people, cats and dogs too. My chickens are big enough that they’d be reported if they harmed other pets. Pochi and Tama are both looking away, seemingly not listening to me at all. Hey you two, I’m still your owner, you know?
Also, apparently pops and his wife used the headless tiger keelback to make karaage after peeling its skin. He says the bitterness was just right. (It’s typically not very tasty)
“Come pick them up next weekend. Come on Pochi and Tama, I’ll explain things.”
They both follow pops without hesitating.
…It’s not like I wanted them to look back, looking like they didn’t want to go. But come on, you’re not turning around at all?
“I’m going back.”
I say, with a loud voice, full of feeling.
“Yes, I’ll call you if something happens.”
Pops turns around to respond, but those other two don’t. You cold-hearted chickens.
I leave in a huff and pass by the tofu seller.
This tofu seller has been here for a long time, so they sell thick fried tofu ganmodoki, and even aburaage. And they give okara for free if you buy something.
I ask why they’re giving out something so tasty, and I’m told a lot of it is a byproduct of when they make the tofu. They get so much every day, that they wouldn’t be able to sell it all, and it would spoil quickly. A large factory can ask the workers to dispose of it, but this is a small place.
And so, they tell people to just take it. A bag full if you buy something else. Sometimes I fry it with vegetables, and my chickens really like it.
Apparently there are okara cookies being sold as diet food too, but it becomes industrial waste if it’s thrown out. Can’t something be done with it?
I go back to the mountain, but it’s still raining, so there’s not much to do.
“Yuma, I’m home.”
After I stop the mini truck, Yuma pops its head out. Apparently it was patrolling around the house.
“I got okara.”
“Okara.”
Yuma happily wags its tail. It’s nice that it’s happy, but lately their tails have become vicious weapons, so it’s scary. I’m sure it would hurt if it hit me. They even hunted a boar with those tails…
Wasn’t that before the golden week? I’m pretty sure they weren’t even that big at the time… Their growth is a little scary, but I get the feeling that I won’t have trouble feeding them.
After organizing the fridge, I look at the field. When it keeps raining, it’s easy for the vegetables to get sick. My chickens can eat harmful bugs, but they can’t do anything about that. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong for the time being though.
“I hope the weather gets better already.”
I want to hang the clothes and futon out to dry. I have a clothes dryer and one for futons too, but that doesn’t really satisfy me.
I’ve heard that the nice smell I feel when I hang things out to dry outside is not actually from the sun, but rather from dead mites. That’s completely false. That’s actually the fibers like cotton taking in the sunlight, and decomposing through the ultraviolet rays. (It’s too difficult for me, so just google it) And then they release something, and that’s the sunny smell. I’m just glad it’s not mites, I like that smell.
My chickens are pretty cute when they’re basking in the sun too, and they also like that smell.
In the afternoon, I go check out the river. It’s scary, because its volume has increased so much.
After getting back, I wipe Yuma with a towel, and relax for the rest of the day.
It’s all fine during the day, but when it comes time to make dinner, it hits me. That’s right, Pochi and Tama aren’t here today.
Yuma eats okara and vegetable scraps, and I put the okara that I accidentally made for Pochi and Tama in the fridge, before going to take a bath to clear my head. And Yuma comes along.
If it gets a bit bigger, it’s not going to fit in here with me. Should I buy a big washbowl? Thankfully, the bathing area is pretty spacious, so I think that would work.
“…It’s so quiet…”
“Quiet.”
My chickens don’t cluck a lot, but they make a lot of noise when they move around the house. It feels weird to not be hearing that.
I start counting with my fingers. Tomorrow’s Wednesday. I’m going there on the weekend, so until then, it’s just me and Yuma.
“It feels lonelier than I thought.”
Pochi and Tama don’t let me touch them a lot, but I miss their presences.
I really do need three chickens. They’re my irreplaceable family.
I don’t need money, I just want them back. But I can’t say that.
“Yuma, can you sleep next to me?”
I’m not talking about crawling into my futon with me. They usually sleep on the dirt floor, in the hall, or wherever they want. But tonight, I want Yuma there in the room.
It snuggles up to me. It’s so kind and cute. I’m always being helped by my chickens like this. Sorry I’m a pathetic owner.
I feel like I’m gonna cry tonight.
◇ ◇ ◇
But…
The next night, pops brings Pochi and Tama back. He looks pretty tired, and I tilt my head, wondering what happened.
