- Mar 25, 2009
- 1,299
- 15
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...for everyone besides me. XD
I evidently have an interesting way of saying things, because it seems that my chicks are becoming locally famous. My dad has found my time with the chicks to be infinitely amusing--his general attitude toward the whole thing is "nobody every told us how to raise them--we just knew!" so my researching and worrying and whatnot perplexes him greatly. As did the amount of money I've spent on these critters so far (hey Dad, not everyone has all kind of scrap lumber just lying about
).
But the biggest story so far is that of the "Exploding Chickens" On day 2 of chick ownership I was worried that I had two with pasty butt (I didn't; just slightly dirty butts). Anyway, because my sister's fiance helped me clean them up, more fuss was made over it that I would have generally expected. Dad had never heard of party butt--this with years of having 100 shipped chicks in the basement every spring--and wanted to know why it was a problem.
In hindsight, I shouldn't have made my entire explanation "it'll make 'em explode." Dad frowned for a moment, then went into something of a slow leak himself as the mental picture appeared. His comment was that he "remembered going to sleep at night hearing 'peep... peep' from the basement, but not 'BANG!'"
Well, anyway, there must have been a lasting impression. Dad relayed the "3-hour trip to Lowes" story, the "$500 chickens" story, and the "Exploding chicks" to a friend. Normally such tales stop there, but the friend relayed it to his wife. The wife went to work--she does therapy--and while she was there she heard two older fellows talking chickens. So SHE tells these stories, starting with the Lowes trip and working up to peeps going off like fireworks in the basement. These two old guys were practically rolling when it was all said and done.
Who knows whether it went on from there, but if you're in my neck of the woods and hear anything about the "$500 chickens" or "Exploding chicks", well... you'll know where it all started.
I evidently have an interesting way of saying things, because it seems that my chicks are becoming locally famous. My dad has found my time with the chicks to be infinitely amusing--his general attitude toward the whole thing is "nobody every told us how to raise them--we just knew!" so my researching and worrying and whatnot perplexes him greatly. As did the amount of money I've spent on these critters so far (hey Dad, not everyone has all kind of scrap lumber just lying about
But the biggest story so far is that of the "Exploding Chickens" On day 2 of chick ownership I was worried that I had two with pasty butt (I didn't; just slightly dirty butts). Anyway, because my sister's fiance helped me clean them up, more fuss was made over it that I would have generally expected. Dad had never heard of party butt--this with years of having 100 shipped chicks in the basement every spring--and wanted to know why it was a problem.
In hindsight, I shouldn't have made my entire explanation "it'll make 'em explode." Dad frowned for a moment, then went into something of a slow leak himself as the mental picture appeared. His comment was that he "remembered going to sleep at night hearing 'peep... peep' from the basement, but not 'BANG!'"
Well, anyway, there must have been a lasting impression. Dad relayed the "3-hour trip to Lowes" story, the "$500 chickens" story, and the "Exploding chicks" to a friend. Normally such tales stop there, but the friend relayed it to his wife. The wife went to work--she does therapy--and while she was there she heard two older fellows talking chickens. So SHE tells these stories, starting with the Lowes trip and working up to peeps going off like fireworks in the basement. These two old guys were practically rolling when it was all said and done.
Who knows whether it went on from there, but if you're in my neck of the woods and hear anything about the "$500 chickens" or "Exploding chicks", well... you'll know where it all started.
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