Am I A Chicken Farmer?

These are not marshmallow or chocolate centered.

I really did get 44 fuzzy peepers on Easter Sunday. I knew I would! And everyone told me fat chance that there is no mail on Sunday and or any holiday which the post office always takes off. The sad part was I was hoping that they would arrive while I had 40 guests for Brunch. I got the chicken call at 5:20 pm. The box of cheeps landed at the Petaluma post office and they were giving me a courtesy plea call to come and get them. Why would they deliver them to Petaluma and not to the Healdsburg post office 30 miles closer to my house?

“Hello maa’m, your chicks have arrived at the Petaluma USPS”

“Great, so what am I supposed to do?”

“We’re open 24 hours…”

“And… am I supposed to pick them up?”

“Well, we can deliver them tomorrow during normal postal hours”

“And if I don’t come get them, will they even be alive tomorrow?”

“I sure hope so…”

It was settled. Luckily along with a few sated stragglers Timothy, Sadao, and Mohana were there. Before I had to time to panic, they were in the car driving south.

They are sooooo cute. Seriously if you’ve never had the chance to hold a day old chicken, you’d better get down to the nearest farm supply store with a chick brooder and feel for yourself. Unlike small human babies, day old chicks are already miniature chickens in waiting. Fantastically fuzzy and cute, they pick little fights with each other, they scratch at the wood shavings on the floor, and they come a running when they see you to beat the others out for small food handouts. Their cries are just as cute- peeep peeep peep. No sugar crusted marshmallow will ever stand in for the real deal.

It is now Thursday, and they are still sooooo cute. 3 casualties though. The first, Nash played with to death. And I can’t believe the cat figured out how to get in so quick! Not even a day and I open up the cage door to see him crouched, eyes bulging in anticipation. I was so startled to see him in there but the chicks didn’t seem fazed in front of him, I pet the cat and hugged him before I saw the lone chick lying quiet and still beside the brooder box. I immediately relinquished my love for the cat and threw him 10 feet from the door, for good measure scolded him and threw a rock at him. In hindsight I think I hurt Nash’s feelings, He didn’t know not to kill those varmints, everything else he kills I reward him with a fancy feast can, not a rock to the side. My punishment… I haven’t seen him and he hasn’t been back home to let me pet and love him.

I knew I’d lose the second. She came with a crooked beak it was her damnation. The third; I don’t get that one. I was limp for no reason; I took her out of the box and tried to resuscitate her. She just stopped breathing. And I hope this doesn’t mean darker things to come. I’ve owned chickens most of my life. My last batch of chicks, I have none left. If you get 12 of them, by the next spring, you’re lucky to have 3. With 44 new chicks, how many will make it till next Easter?  I’m down to 41 and it hasn’t even been a week.