Okay, so today I loaded up my 10 oldest layers (2 years of age) and set off down the Turnpike from God's Country (Tulsa) to Parts Downstate. I met Buckguy in OKC, where we drank tea and chatted about anything and everything - lots of non sequitor stuff. Kronk didn't come 'cuz I don't think he can drive.
Then, just when he least expected it, I sold Monty two Black Australorp hens. After a bit of prompting, he admitted they were the prettiest Black Australorps he'd ever seen - and even added "so soft, so gentle" on his own, once he realized that complementing the birds was part of the sale price. Verdict: Buckguy is Good.
BUT! He turned the tables and told me a sad story about an undersized Welsumer hen he has who has endured a life of abuse at the bottom of the pecking order and has even been "used" by bigger (regular sized) roos. I caved and said I'd take her...THEN he offered me a couple of week-old Wellie chicks. I mean, you can't just accept ONE chicken from a friend - that would be rude. So once again I get rid of two and pick up three - literal 2 steps forward, three steps back. I can always downsize at POOPS if I must - that's what I keep telling myself!
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Then I met Buster at Chickasha, where he took the last eight layers from my 2 year-old flock. We went to Braums and ate lunch and had a good visit. He was planning to keep a few hens for his own flock and he has a friend who is looking for some, so they'll go to good homes. I know at Buster's place they'll be well-protected - he is a King of Livestock Guard Dogs. Verdict: Buster is Good.
While we were eating, Buster asked me if I was sad about selling my hens, and I am a little bit. I try to be practical about my chickens and tell myself I have them for a specfic purpose - to lay eggs for me to eat, share with family, and to sell. The
FACT on which I must base my actions (because Facts don't often change) is that because I live in town and am limited on space and by law, I cannot continually acquire without divesting. But my
FEELINGS (which often change and therefore cannot always be trusted) are bittersweet. When I think about the tiny puff creatures I raised from day-old chicks and who I checked on every day for two years, who entertained me with their soft clucks, who squatted for me to pet them, and at whom I laughed when they scratched in the yard and chased after each other for a bug, I am a little sad. Thank you Buckguy and Buster for giving them good homes. No matter what ultimately happens to them - I know they'll have been treated with good intentions by the humans who cared for them. AND - the new FACT is that I have a grow-out pen and a brooder FULL of new little puffs who will likewise feed and entertain me, so the cycle continues.
