- May 11, 2010
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And there stood a young boy about 10 years old staring at the chicks for sale. He nervously massaged his fists as his glasses slid down his nose. Swiftly, he pushed the black plastic frames closer to his eyes and stared wistfully at the chicks.
I remembered that look from when I was a kid and knelt down at the metal bins to peer at the chicks.
"Gonna buy you some birds?" I asked and scooted my wire frames up my nose.
He nodded. "But they look so tiny. How can I tell if they lay eggs? How can I tell which one is a rooster? I can't afford a big metal bin like this."
"Don't need a big metal bin," I said as I pressed my nose against the wire protecting the chicks from unnecessary handling. "You can buy a big plastic storage bin from Walmart. Get your heat lamp, thermometer, and feed from here."
"I've never had chicks before. What if they die?" He curled his fingers around the wire.
"Sometimes they do and you can't help it. Do your best to keep them warm, fed and watered and most chicks do well. Do you know what kind you want?"
He shrugged. "I want ones that lay eggs."
I reached behind me, lifted a chicken book from the rack, and sat on my legs. "Let's look and see what kind lay eggs. You want brown or white eggs?"
"Mom says she likes brown eggs." He peered at the book and I held it so we could both look at it while I turned the pages.
We stared at the beautiful pictures of all the chicken breeds.
"So many," he murmured.
"Yeah," I agreed just as impressed as he was as I turned the pages.
He pointed at a picture. "What about those?"
A Rhode Island Red hen stared at us from the glossy page. "Not a bad choice. How many chickens are you allowed to have?"
"Ten or so," he told me.
We stared at the page for a moment and adjusted our glasses at the same time.
"Good looking bird," I said. "Good choice, too. You already have good taste in chicken breeds." I handed him the book. "You might want to buy this and read all you can about chicken raising. Make sure you have all the information you need, make a list, and talk to your parents. You'll impress them your knowledge if you know about chicken and chicken care."
"Okay." He turned away and walked to the front of the store to purchase the book.
Meanwhile, I stared wistfully at the chirping chicks. My husband found me and declared he would buy every one of them if I wanted them. I rose slowly to my feet and wiped the dirt from my knees.
"Nah," I said. "Better save a few for somebody who really needs them."
I remembered that look from when I was a kid and knelt down at the metal bins to peer at the chicks.
"Gonna buy you some birds?" I asked and scooted my wire frames up my nose.
He nodded. "But they look so tiny. How can I tell if they lay eggs? How can I tell which one is a rooster? I can't afford a big metal bin like this."
"Don't need a big metal bin," I said as I pressed my nose against the wire protecting the chicks from unnecessary handling. "You can buy a big plastic storage bin from Walmart. Get your heat lamp, thermometer, and feed from here."
"I've never had chicks before. What if they die?" He curled his fingers around the wire.
"Sometimes they do and you can't help it. Do your best to keep them warm, fed and watered and most chicks do well. Do you know what kind you want?"
He shrugged. "I want ones that lay eggs."
I reached behind me, lifted a chicken book from the rack, and sat on my legs. "Let's look and see what kind lay eggs. You want brown or white eggs?"
"Mom says she likes brown eggs." He peered at the book and I held it so we could both look at it while I turned the pages.
We stared at the beautiful pictures of all the chicken breeds.
"So many," he murmured.
"Yeah," I agreed just as impressed as he was as I turned the pages.
He pointed at a picture. "What about those?"
A Rhode Island Red hen stared at us from the glossy page. "Not a bad choice. How many chickens are you allowed to have?"
"Ten or so," he told me.
We stared at the page for a moment and adjusted our glasses at the same time.
"Good looking bird," I said. "Good choice, too. You already have good taste in chicken breeds." I handed him the book. "You might want to buy this and read all you can about chicken raising. Make sure you have all the information you need, make a list, and talk to your parents. You'll impress them your knowledge if you know about chicken and chicken care."
"Okay." He turned away and walked to the front of the store to purchase the book.
Meanwhile, I stared wistfully at the chirping chicks. My husband found me and declared he would buy every one of them if I wanted them. I rose slowly to my feet and wiped the dirt from my knees.
"Nah," I said. "Better save a few for somebody who really needs them."
