I have chickens. Four chickens- to be exact. Their names are as follows: Nettie Buttercup, Lily Sparkles, Esme Chrysanthemum and Sketchy Longneck. Yep, they are all double-namers. And yep, I know the names are hilarious.
I have had nine chickens since May of 2009. In January of that year, I decided I wanted chickens. I started the frontal assault on Black Hair. It went something like this:
Earth Momma: I want chickens.
Black Hair: No.
Earth Momma: They would give us eggs and eat all of those pesky mosquitoes.
Black Hair: Hell No
Earth Momma: They would teach our child where her food comes from and how to be a good steward of the earth.
Black Hair: They stink so…NO. Besides, where would you put them?
Earth Momma: Oh. Didn’t I mention that the neighbor down the street is willing to give me his rabbit hutch if I use your truck and get it out of his side yard? And they only stink if you don’t keep their living area clean. I can put their poop in the compost pile.
Black Hair: No. I think they’re illegal.
Earth Momma: OK. Sure, I’ll make you a Power Point presentation of why we should have chickens and the laws don’t actually say I can’t have them. It was a little vague. And I won’t get roosters so the neighbors won’t even know they are here.
Black Hair: Whatever. You don’t know how to make a Power Point and…No.
So in February I did a Power Point presentation (because I needed to prove that I could) and in April I brought home a rabbit hutch, which I cleaned up, rehabbed and painted bright red. Black Hair wanted it to be orange and blue & GC 1 wanted purple but I trumped everyone and chose red because the mis-tint cheap paint I found was red. Besides, red is very farm-like and I had visions of urban farming dancing in my deluded little brain.
In May, we took a family outing to the local Feed and Seed and we picked out our chicks. It went something like this:
Black Hair- I want that one.
Earth Momma: You don’t get to choose. You don’t want chickens, remember?
CG1: I want that one.
Earth Momma: Are you sure? That one looks like it might be a boy and it pecked me. I think it might be mean.
CG1: Yes, I’m sure. I feel sorry for it. If we don’t take it no one else will.
Black Hair: I want that one.
Earth Momma: Fine. But if you choose one you can’t fuss at me later about chicken stuff.
Black Hair: I’m not making promises but I really like that one.
So, home we went with five little chicks in a cardboard box and enough feed to feed them for a century. This was the easiest & cheapest pet I have ever purchased. Or so I ridiculously thought at that moment.
To Be Continued
I'll post the rest of the story next time I have a minute.