He counted himself lucky. He’d worked hard and climbed high to the top rungs of the corporate ladder. Successful he was considered by any means. He lived in a nice home; he drove a nice car. He’d been able to send his kids to the best colleges. The wife and he were able to take vacations in Europe and exotic locations throughout the world. At the top of his profession he found himself contented.

And then it happened. The company was bought out. New management came in. The old ways were out; new methods of doing things were in. He was not a happy executive. Fortunately, he had a buy out clause in his contract that allowed him to retire early in the event of a takeover. He exercised his option and bid the corporate world good-by.

He and his wife bought a hundred acres of land in northwest Georgia located on a ridge overlooking a beautiful valley. The days of corporate oversight were over. The time of gazing out over the valley had begun. The new retirement house was spacious. His wife had decorated it to be a reflection of a page from Better Homes and Gardens. He felt at peace in his new home with his lack of responsibility. Days were spent reading books he’d always intended to read. He became an expert on the internet. Life was good. But, after a year or so, life became boring.

All his adult life he’d had goals toward which he worked. All his life he’d endeavored to be accomplished in his vocation. And now, retired but in many ways at the peak of his living, there were no goals, no responsibilities. He had to find some endeavor to pursue.

He decided one morning, on the spur of the moment, to become a farmer. But he knew nothing about farming. So, he settled on chicken farming. How difficult could that be? He ordered some chickens from one of the chicken companies. He worked hard. But all his chickens died, every last one of them. He placed another order. Again all the chickens died. He was beside himself. Once more he ordered some chickens. The third time all the chickens died.

The retired executive, turned would-be chicken farmer, was beside himself. He didn’t know what he could do. All he had to show for his labor now was dead chickens. It was his perseverance that had gotten him to the top of the corporate pile and he was determined perseverance could once again get him to success in the chicken field.

He fretted over the problem for a few days. Finally, he confided to his wife his failure. “I don’t seem to be able to master this chicken farming,” he told her.

She replied, “Honey, there’s suppose to be this person called a county agent in communities like this. I bet if you called the county agent he could help you.”

He decided it was a good idea. He called. He explained the problem to the agent: “I bought my first load and planted them. They all died. I bought the second load. This time I planted them further apart and deeper. They died. I made sure on the third purchase I fertilized those good. But they also died. Can you give me any advice?”

The agent replied, “I really can’t tell you anything unless you bring me a soil sample.”