I’ve just discovered another reason why 16-year-old girls shouldn’t have their driver’s licenses: baby chickens.
My daughter was driving home the other day and saw a sign that said, “Baby Chicks … $1.49”. If I had been driving, the kids would have begged and pleaded for me to stop, but the answer would have been “No … not in this century.”
But my daughter was by herself and said she just “had” to stop and see the little darlings. You can guess the rest … yep, she bought one. Now keep in mind, she has never raised an animal for the fair and knows absolutely nothing about chickens.
She walked up to the checkout with the one teeny-tiny chick. The girl checking her out looked a bit confused, I guess because most people buy the chicks by the dozen. She asked my daughter if she had a place to keep it.
“Oh, I have a good friend who raises chickens for the fair every year. He’ll help me!” And off she went.
Well, you can guess my reaction when she showed up with this ball of feathers. I explained we weren’t equipped to care for it, and that it would probably die within a few days. I told her to take it back RIGHT NOW. She left with the chick in hand, her head hanging low.
Later I saw a shadow slink in the front door and sneak back to her bedroom. I felt a cold sweat come over me as I followed the shadow, afraid of what I might find.
Instead of returning the chicken, she had bought feed, vitamins, and other supplies, and had found a big box to put him in. She was intending to keep this chicken. AARRRGGGHHH!
I decided to let things be … I was sure that after a few days she would understand the scope of the task she had undertaken (or it would die). But it has been more than a week now, and we still have this blasted chicken … INSIDE the house!
I don’t know how the heck to tell if a little chick is male or female. So we call it a “him”. But when I think of it being full grown, I picture it being a hen, so then I call it a “her”.
Kids who have raised chickens for the fair don’t think they’re cute. They know how big they’ll get, how noisy they are, how messy they are, and how much work they’ll be. Her friend has pretty much told her she’s on her own. He just raised his last batch of fair chickens and he never wants to see another one. He said if she wants a pen for the chickens, he’d tell her how to build one.
When a teenage girl buys a chick, she thinks it’s cute. She loves it. It is a pet. Baby chickens don’t make very good pets, though. They don’t snuggle, they definitely are not house-broken, and they don’t like it when you try to pet them. And after the first few days, they stink and everything around them stinks. And heaven forbid talking about the day you’re going to butcher it for dinner.
This chick is still in a box in my daughter’s room, but believe me, that’s gonna change real soon. Pen or no pen, it’s going outside soon. Some lucky raccoon may get a delicious meal out of this.
Fair chickens also have each other to keep them company. But when you have an “only chick”, he is lonely 24-7. He doesn’t want to stay in his box, and he doesn’t like being left alone. The only creatures he sees (besides the cats peering over the top of the box, hoping against hope they will have the chance to eat him) are humans, so I pretty sure this chicken thinks he’s human, too.
We’ll take him out in the back yard … and if we walk away from him, he starts chirping really loudly and comes running after us. When my daughter was cleaning out his box last night, she brought him to me to hold and he jumped up to my shoulder and went to sleep.
This is all fine and good, but when it’s a full grown chicken, I don’t think people will understand if I answer the door with a poulet on my shoulder. I can imagine the tongues wagging if we walked the dog and rooster every evening.
Anyway, life is never dull around here. And if anyone out there wants a chicken, please call. Really.
