Chick These Out

"Let's go look and talk to the farmer," she said.

"I like to research," she said.

It turned out to be more than research.

To be fair, Carrie brought up the idea of chickens earlier. She had done a lot of research. I said "I don't want chickens" Friday, but she kept working on me. She played on my natural curiosity and showed me stuff she learned and acted giddy until I asked, "Would this get me off the hook for your birthday and Christmas?"

The next thing I knew we were at a farm and the farmer was telling us her prices. I don't know if Carrie planned on buying when we left the house or if she got swept up in the glee of the moment.

It helped that we talked about ground rules and hypotheticals all weekend. If (ha) we did this, we wanted slightly older chicks. That way they'd be more sturdy for Shane, larger than prey to a cat, and possibly easier to sex. We wanted egg layers, not crows. Originally, Carrie wanted two, but I thought if (ha) we did go to the trouble of making a coop we should have a few more. That way if there were any loud boys we had to ditch or nuggetize we wouldn't be left with one or zero chicks.

A handshake and a trip to Walmart later, we had a bin full of six silkie chicks.

Credit goes to Carrie for her research. She found a breed that's fluffy, small (bantam), friendly, and quiet(er). There were several breeds of chicks available, and the differences were apparent. The budding Old English roosters started to jump out of the crates and crow and posture when we entered the shed. Someone must have been a butt pecker, too, because many of the chicks were missing tail feathers. The farmer threw a couple of them out the door to quiet the place down. The silkies all huddled together and remained mellow.

We got to look at some of the adult silkies out in the yard. Once again, the differences were in the silkies' favor. It's hard to see in the picture, but Farmer Julie's big Jersey Red had spurts the size of my thumb. If we did get any male chicks (highly likely), they only grow nubs (very important with a hyper, grabby kindergartener).

Trivia: Silkie meat is black. Google it.

There were lots of other animals on the farm. Rabbits, goats, a cat, and (my favorite) a big, lovable, sheep dog.

I'd have taken him home if he fit in the bin.

He didn't. I don't think the cats would have forgiven me. Max was interested on who we did show up with.

Bucket hid. Maybe in terror. Maybe in ambivalence. It was Chick TV for the other ladies.

Carrie attempted to bond/bathe one chick right away. It pooped.

And it shrunk!

A blow dryer fluffed the chick back up before the others called it names.

Carrie converted half of our old entertainment center to a chick bed. The other half will get the same treatment eventually. For now, the chicks have more room than a single bin.

And I guess this means we're chicken farmers. Carrie is one step closer to her dream farm and we never left the city.