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True Stories of an Irish Upbringing and Other
lies by Dan Daneen
Price $ 17.00>> 
 Animals
I Have Known
Tradition is a dog’s mother! The one I hated the most was
cleaning the chimneys before we went back to school in
the autumn. Agile young hands best performed this task.
The overture was the catching of six very unlucky chickens,
preferably including the rooster, and putting them into a sack.
Next ensued a lengthy argument as to the roles the two of us
would play. Who would be dropper or catcher? The dropper had
to climb up on the wet roof with the sack of chickens and one by
one remove them from the sack, and forcibly convince them to be
dropped down the chimney. This was a lot easier said than done
because the chickens that were veterans of last year’s drop did not
take to this autumn ritual with much enthusiasm, and put up a
valiant fight before being dispatched down the chimney. With two
hands occupied, the dropper also had to balance himself on the
steep slope of the roof to prevent his falling off the roof during
this ritual. I am sure that the chickens prayed for that to happen
each year.
The catcher had the job of receiving the chicken and a
pile of soot. On arriving in the living room the chickens were
invariably possessed with an unreasonable desire to get out as
quickly as possible. This desire that was close to panic meant if
the catcher did not do his job efficiently, a very dirty chicken
would race around the room trying its best to evade its captors.
In so doing, it made an incredible mess for which the catcher
was blamed...
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