Feeding Chickens with Uncle Ralph

by Andy Murphy
regular visitor from Arlington, Virginia

(March, 2001) Two women passed on their way back from the beach, still marveling over the pristine pink sand and how they had loved the experience of riding Robert Davis's horse TG. It sounded exhilarating, but on this Friday afternoon I had topped them. I had just fed the chickens with Uncle Ralph.

Uncle Ralph's Aura Corner had caught my eye when I first visited 10 years ago, and I've made the pilgrimage every year since, even adding a license plate and a sign of my own to his world-famous, eclectic collection of wisdom. I've also taken to occasionally visiting with My Uncle of a late afternoon, nursing a beer on his stoop.

This visit was different. He welcomed me with a great hug and shook a clump of brilliant red dates from the palm next to his house dislodging a dozen or more. On cue, a gaggle of chicks and hens and a pair of roosters appeared looking to eat the fruit. Ralph laughed, "They think they're cherries. I'll get them some real food." And he went inside to grab a loaf of white bread, no doubt baked at Arthur's several days before.

We tore off small chunks and fed the gang for the next 15 minutes, the eager, hungry fowl never getting their fill. One speckled, mid-sized hen was clearly an outsider, as the others purposely kept her from getting any. We fell out laughing as the larger rooster grabbed a huge chunk and ran off with his booty. Another God-moment on Harbour Island.

As always, Ralph sent me home with a hibiscus for my wife, suggesting we meet up later for some pool at Willie's. Cool, but not as cool as feeding chickens on the Aura Corner.

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