Honey, some hot chicks are moving into the spare bedroom....

I have 6 chickens, there were supposed to only be 4 and they were supposed to only be hens, but well something happened at the hatchery...

Back in early summer we created a massive garden. This thing could feed the entire block. I didn't really MEAN for it to be in preparation for the apocolypse but well, on paper things seem, well, smaller. So I drew up plans for a raised bed garden to be planted sort of biointensively...but we'll discuss the garden another day. Today is about the chickens and they came later, but for today they are coming first.

Here's the thing, soft hearted animal lovers shouldn't go IN a hatchery, especially not with their children who are also soft heared animal lovers. Because here is what happens...

me: "Let's go check out the hatchery, it's not far and we can see which kind of breeds we want later."

sons: "ok" (driving and car singing duration: 45 minutes)

me to hatchery girl (hg): "do you have any chicks we can see?"

hg: "we only hatch on wednesdays"

How do they KNOW that anyway?...and of course it was Tuesday...

hg: "but look around, we have some left over."

And there is where it all goes awry because really chicks are CUTE even when they are a week old instead of a day old. Not to mention they are packed in little wire cages looking like they deserve a home.

son1: "oh look these look just like chipmunks, can I have one?"

me: "we are just looooking. Oh look, this one is an exotic Japanese one that grows a tail 7 feet long..."

Ok, you see how the impulse control problem arose....and here it goes:

me: "how much are they?"

hg: "$1.75 for regular and $3.75 for the rares" (approximately, afraid I might be misquoting and hg is going to sue me now, but I'm crossing my fingers on that one).

Now imagine a cloud of "please???"

me: "are these all hens?"

hg: "well the ones over here are sexed and hens, but the ones over there (points to indicate the chipmunk and Japanese ones we are standing by), we don't know for sure"

Yes, I know. Common sense says WALK AWAY NOW. But what do I do? Obviously if you are following this theme at all, you can guess...

me: "how long before we'd KNOW? I mean when do they crow and make noise?"

hg: "oh you'll have several months."

me to children: "ok which ones do you want?"

Now before you think, what a crazy lady. Me, oh I forgot, I live inside the city limits. Are we allowed to spontaneously become chicken farmers? I have no earthly idea. But here is the idea: they need protection for several weeks indoors anyway and then we do own some land and we'll build something out there if needed. I have a friend who likes birds, a quick text confirmed she can "save" us in a pinch....

HG was helpful, over the top helpful, as in over the top of the box adding more chicks to our order helpful. I only saw her add one extra "because sometimes they don't make it or you might have a rooster and will have to give him away"...but after we get in the car after spending $10 total...

me: "how many chicks are in there?"

son: "7"

(ah, yes, if you read carefully you will know that I said I have 6. I started out with 7, they all made it to juvenile status and outside to the yard. where, unfortunately, the dog made it into the garden under the fence and snatched one. He wasn't really trying to eat it, he wanted to play but, well, he didn't play well. RIP Fuzzy Foot)

So, the chicks did live in a rubbermaid homemade 'brooder' in the spare bedroom. This made me the source of much laughter amongst my family. "Are the chickens still in the HOUSE?"

Yes. Yes they are. They like to sit on our hands....

A month later..."Are the chickens still in the HOUSE? ::snicker::"

Yes. Yes they are. They like to fly up a bit and will ride on our shoulders like parrots. There is a downside to chicken parrots though--they poop in your hair.

::snicker:: ::snicker::

A month later.. "Are the chickens still in the HOUSE? " (no more snickering, apparently they have figured out this is not going to change anytime soon)

Yes. Yes they are. We've built them a pen now in the middle of the room with plastic picnic blankets, 4 dog gates, cardboard, pine shavings, parrot perches, sticks, their stuffed lion toy (yes, they did like to perch on his arms and cuddle with it), mirrors, an embroidery hoop (yes, Fuzzy Foot would jump through it for a mealworm), and, oh yes, the heat lamp that perches on the electric guitar stand.

A month later.. "Are the chickens still in the HOUSE"

Yes. yes they are. But we've had a couple of flight attempts, they play in the boy's toys and walk on the dresser. (Also I didn't mention this but there was fine dust starting to accumulate in spite of a weekly mucking out and reassembly of our chicken room. Those girls really find every bit of wood dust from the shavings and throw it in the air)... We are building a shed.

A week later. "uh, that's not a shed, that's a playhouse"

Me: Yes, Yes I know.

So the chickens moved into their own 100 sq ft garden cottage with working windows, window boxes, shutters and a fresh coat of pumpkin orange (I don't care what my dad says, its NOT "schoolbus-yellow-you-should-repaint-now") with pale green shutters.

Wow I started all of that just to tell you about my conversation with Chicken Joe, but now my fingers are tired and that will have to wait till later.