Some of you guys are probably getting sick of all these chicken stories, and i have a feeling most of you will completely ignore my story, but I need help on it. I am writing this for language arts because we are learning about auto biographies, biographies, and memoirs (ABM's) and I decided to write mine about when I first got my chickens. I want constructive criticism. NOT "I love your story" or "Its really good!" I want to know my errors, tell me where I need more detail!! So here goes nothing... My New Chicks "Ayla, Wake up" My dad whispered softly. I opened my eyes and looked at my clock, it was 5:00, I glared at him. "The post office just called, the chicks are there, waiting for us right now, it is time to go and pick them up." I leaped out of bed and switched my light on. It stung my eyes, but I did not care, I had waited for what felt like an eternity to get the chickens, and now they were here. My dad smiled at me and left my room. As soon as he shut my door I peeled off my pajamas and grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and my green Aeropostale sweatshirt from my closet and threw them on. I rushed out of my room and flew down the stairs. My Dad was waiting for me in the kitchen, "Are you ready to go sweetheart?" he asked, but I had already stuffed on my boots and was heading out the door. He grabbed the keys and a jacket and came out the garage door. "Come on Dad! Hurry up!" I yelled impatiently. He opened the door and sat down in the drivers seat, but his keys in the ignition of my moms silver Honda Pilot and we reversed out of the garage. I began relaying the information that I had heard on the internet to my dad. "Okay, now we need to turn the heating up to seventy degrees to keep the chicks warm." I told him, and he turned up the heat "Oh, and we cannot play loud music, as it can hurt their ears, and frighten them. And as soon as we get them we have to open up the box and make sure that all the chicks are there and they are all healthy." My dad nodded. The trip seemed to take an eternity even though there was nobody on the road. Eventually we pulled into the post office parking lot. I opened the door, ' Will they be like I imagined? What if one is dead? What if they messed up our order?' I had so many questions, but they were soon answered. As soon as we came through the door we could hear faint peeping. We approached the counter and almost on cue a tall, balding man with glasses came over to assist us. He eyed us. "Are you the ones with the chickens?" I nodded vigorously, "Yes, we are." my dad said. The man walked away, the sound of peeping became louder and louder, until the man emerged with a small box with holes all around the sides, and about 10 or so holes in the top. I tried to look through the holes, but it was too dark. I was becoming impatient, I desperately wanted to see these little balls of fuzz. "Is that all?" the man said in a monotone voice. Both me and my dad nodded. "Okay then, here you go!" he said, and smiled at me, while pushing the box over to me. I grinned and grabbed the box, holding it close to my chest. Shivers ran down my spine, the box was only as heavy as a full binder, but i held it very carefully with both hands. We walked out of the door, and began towards the car. I began to have nightmare-ish visions of myself dropping the box, and killing a chick or two, as they are so delicate. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn't, my heart was racing. My dad opened the door for me, and I slipped into the passenger seat, placing the cheeping box on my lap. I closed the door, and my dad grabbed my bright, shiny blue camera, and turned it on. He began to take video as I grabbed a pair of scissors from the passenger door and began to cut at the string that was holding the box closed. I cut the first string, and i was able to half lift the lid and peek, but I couldn't see well. I looked at the camera and smiled, and resumed snipping the second string. I set the scissors down, and lifted the lid. The sound of the cheeping intensifies, as loads of very cute fuzzy little things hopped around the box. On the bottom of the box was a bed of straw. I could not stop smiling, they were the cutest things I had ever seen. At around three days old, they still were completely covered in small fluffy feathers, that almost looked like fuzz. I picked up one of the black and white ones. It was very light, almost weightless. Its fuzz was extremely soft, it felt like nothing I had ever felt before. I could feel its bones through its skin, and I realized how truly delicate these baby birds were. "This is a Silver-Laced Wyandotte, we have five of them." I told the camera. I put her back in the box, and I picked out one of the light brown ones, with the darker brown stripe on its head. This chick was slightly bigger than the Silver-Laced Wyandotte, but still felt weightless. Its eyes were the color of milk chocolate, and it cheeped very loudly. "This is a Speckled Sussex, and we have 5 of them too." Lastly I picked up a strawberry blonde chick. she shivered, so I held her close to my chest in an attempt to warm her up. I then put her in front of the camera. "And this one is a Rhode Island Red, and we have, six." I looked at my dad "we have six, they must have thrown in an extra one!" My smile grew even wider. My dad stopped the camera, I put on my seatbelt, and we were off. I couldn't wait to show them their new home. I had stayed up late trying to fix up their brooder. I put down puppy training pads on the bottom of my dog's old crate, and put in a feeder and a waterer. We also put in a small heat lamp, to keep them warm and mimic what it may have been like under a momma chicken. "So what do you think of your new chickens?" My dad asked me. "I love them!" I exclaimed, picking one up and holding it close. "When we get home, you must put the lid on the box, so your brothers can have the same excitement when they see the chicks first. Okay?" My dad said. I sighed. "Well I guess so, but we have to get them in the brooder quick though." My dad nodded, and in no time at all we were going down the driveway and pulling into the garage. I got out and walked in the house. I set the box on the countertop. My brothers, Rory and Connor came running to see our new family members. Together they lifted the lid and oohed and aahed at the chicks. "They are so cute!" They said in unison, picking them up. I picked up one of the black and white ones, setting her tiny feet on my hand. It was only the size of a large, ripe plum. I gently set her back in the box. And motioned for the boys to do so too. "Nooooo!!!" Connor whined, "I want to keep holding it!! I named it. Its name is Chicky!" "Well that is a stupid name," I told him. "Because it won't always be a chick, so Chicky doesn't make sense. Now put the chick in the box so we can take them down to the basement and put them in the brooder." Rory and Connor reluctantly put their chicks back in the box, and I carried it down into the basement. I went over to the brooder. It was illuminated red thanks to the heat lamp. I sat down cross legged with the chirping box beside me, and first took a Rhode Island Red. I picked her up gently and dipped her beak in the waterer to let her get a drink, and make her aware of where the water was, then set her down in the brooder. I then repeated this with every chick, so that they were all walking around the brooder, cheeping happily. I sat there for the rest of the day, admiring our 16 new additions. I smiled, I loved my chicks!