Chickens at the door

The more I read what other soldiers' mothers have to say, the more similar our fears seem to be. From a Time magazine story "A Mother's War". . .

. . . The grandfather clock in [this Mother's] house chimes nine times when the other clocks say it's noon because the grandfather clock is set to Baghdad time. [She] has figured out how to tell if someone is in her driveway by squinting at the reflection off a certain glass-covered picture in the dining room, so that if it should ever be two men in uniform, [she] will know they have arrived before they start ringing the bell and before she is obliged to look directly at them and hear what they have come to say.

My method is to freeze wherever I am and scream at my husband "WHO IS IT?, WHO IS IT?" Several Sundays back I was upstairs getting ready for church when our two dogs starting barking wildly. There WAS definitely someone or something OUT THERE -- no doubt. And I was definitely not going downstairs to face them. From the top of the stairs I yelled to my husband in my best panicked voice: "WHO IS IT?, WHO IS IT?". My husband can't seem to look out the door either, so he looks out a window on the side of the house. It's CHICKENS! Probably 10 chickens had found their way into our yard -- one even onto the roof of our neighbor's house. We were both put into a state of terror by CHICKENS! Harmless chickens. Not "two men in uniform"; chickens. I love chickens.