The Rise of the Tamers- Book one

Chapter One- A Tamer?

Tucker stepped out of his dusty Chevy truck onto the dirt road just outside of the Windy City, Chicago Illinois. The vast flatland was full of animals and plants, a light wind blowing through and making the crops sway gently, the perfect farmlands. He smiled and ran up to one of the houses, his grandmother's house where he came after school every day to help his grandmother on the farm since he was a kid. His favorite part was helping with the animals. He attended a college class in high school to learn veterinary skills so he could grow up to be an all animal vet and help the farmers in need. He knocked on the door and slipped off his sneakers as his grandmother opened it and he gave her a bright smile. "Hey Nana, need me today?" He stepped inside, gave her a hug and set his sneakers onto the floor next to the dining table.

His grandmother smiled and nodded. "You bet! The cows need to be milked, the eggs need to be collected and I need help in the kitchen when you're done." She handed him his work boots, a bucket for milk and a basket for the eggs before getting back into the kitchen. He smiled, shoved his feet into his boots, and headed outside to the barn.

He sat down on the stool next to his cow, Clementine, and put the bucket underneath her. "Hey there ol' girl." He patted her flank. "How's your day been?" He smiled as she mooed softly in response as he started to milk her. She was a great dairy cow that produced a lot of milk every day. She also had a lot of luck giving birth to calves, which they would sell to other farmers if they needed it. He milked her until she was empty and he stood, lifting the heavy bucket out from underneath her. "Good girl!" He pet her ears as he untied her from the front of her stall.

He carried the heavy metal bucket back into the house for his grandmother to take care of and headed back out to the chicken coup. The hens were all scratching at the dirt, looking for bugs and worms. This was his least favorite job, not because the hens or the smell, but because of him. Tucker looked at the top of the coup and there he stood, all proud and vicious. A great big rooster with spurs that felt like they could cut through steel. Tucker had so many cuts from the blasted fowl. He slowly walked up to the coup, but the rooster saw him before he could head in. The feathered beast jumped down and crowed at him, attacking Tucker with his sharp spurs. Tucker tried his best to dodge the menace but the cursed rooster clawed through his jeans and dug into the back of his leg.

"Ow! Stupid chicken, back off!" He kicked at it, trying to get it off, but the rooster wouldn't budge. Tucker and the rooster fought for a bit until Tucker finally got him off and nudged him away from the coup. He raced inside and closed the door before the rooster could get in. "God I hate that thing...The only animal I've ever not liked..." He rubbed his leg. "Why do we have a rooster anyways?" He picked up the eggs and carefully put them into the linen lined basket, covering them with a bread cloth. "A lot of eggs today." He wrote down the tally on the clipboard in the chicken coup. His grandmother liked keeping a record of how many eggs each chicken is laying so she knows if any are getting old and are ready to be turned into dinner. It was a little sad but it was effective. Barbequed chicken was really good too, so Tucker didn't feel too bad writing down which chickens were not meeting quota. He looked outside when he was done and looked around, checking to see if his enemy was around. He took a step out and the rooster was on his leg like a magnet. "Son of a-!"
Tucker made into the house ten minutes later, covered in scratches. "Tell me again why we can't fry up that old rooster? He doesn't even lay eggs! All he does is try to beat me up!" He put down the eggs and washed his hands, starting to help his grandmother with the cooking. Most of the baked goods they make goes to local food charities, and since the food was all raised at the farm with no additives or pesticides, they were a lot better than store bought foods.

Tucker's grandmother laughed. "The old geezer gives us chicks and convinces the hens to lay more eggs, which means more laying hens and meat. When he can't make any more babies, I'll give you the pleasure of butchering him."