May Memoir: Ca va? Stories from Rural Life in Southern France, Chapter 27: The Farm, Part 2

Welcome to May MEMOIR!

Day 28

For the entire month of May, I'll be sharing part of each chapter from my memoir, Ca va?  Stories from Rural Life in Southern France.

Taking a break from our wedding plans, Christophe and I decide to return to his aunt and uncle’s farm for the weekend.  During the summer, their farm is a popular spot for visiting friends, so we are not alone.  There are about a dozen other friends, family, and a handful of campers.  Our relaxing weekend turned tragic – for the duck that is.

Chapter 27: The Farm, Part 2

“Lynn, a little white wine?”  Jean asks me.  He’s not joking, even if it is only ten o’clock in the morning.  He has pulled out three glasses and a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and has already starting pouring them.  There is no other response but, “yes” and we sit down and relax for a bit.

As I chat with Jean and Christophe, we find the late morning passes at a lackadaisical pace and all are called to the lunch table. It is enjoyed at a leisurely pace, followed by coffee and some conversation.  The campers are up again to clear the table and do the dishes.  Their dog is seen running by; he is soaking wet, but for a moment, no one really questions why.  Then one of the campers returns.  He appears reluctant to interrupt the conversation.

            “I was just coming back from the tent when I passed the chicken coop.  Are they supposed to be lying down like that?  I’ve never seen chickens lie down before.”

            Maria looks at Christophe and he looks at her.  They both know the farm too well to know this is good news.  Everyone gets up from the table and goes to the chicken coop to see what is going on.

            “They’re dead!”  Christophe shouts as he enters the coop.

            He walks around and begins to count the carcasses, “One!  Two!  Three!”

            Maria is much calmer than Christophe.  She says nothing, but the camper’s dog is suspected. 

            “Five!  Six!  Seven!”  Christophe continues to add up the massacre.

            The campers are nervous, but no one points a finger.  Obviously, this wasn’t intentional, but it is clear the dog was never leashed when Mario asked them.

            “Nine!  Ten!  Eleven!  The duck!  Oh my God, the duck got it too!”  Christophe cries.