Just between you and me, this one is my favourite of this series. That sad little calf face gets me right in the heart strings. The rooster, however, just makes me nervous. Like break-out-in-a-cold-sweat kinda nervous. Growing up my mom had chickens and when she had children of her own, she wanted to impart those lessons learned from raising livestock to them.
She's a smart lady, though. She knew her daughter too well to tell her that raising chickens was a chore invented to teach her the values of responsibility and hard work. Oh no. She knew that I would fight tooth and nail against that. Instead she did what any smart mother would do- take me to "visit" some baby chicks then act all wishy-washy when I begged her to let me take them all home (never mind the fact that the chicken coop was already built and waiting at this point).
Yes, my gullible 5-year-old self promised to love and care for those sweet, cuddly baby chicks forever, to feed them and water them every day if only she would let me take them home. She had me hook, line and sinker. She's very clever, that mother o' mine.
It isn't hard for a 5-year-old to fall in love with a fluffy yellow cotton-ball on legs, to spend most of the day ensuring they have water and food, that their heat lamp is on and they are warm and cozy, to make sure that their bed is clean and dry. But soon those cotton-balls grow up into moulting, pecking, egg laying beasties whose sole goal seems to be attacking the girl assigned to collecting said eggs. It didn't take long before the love between the chickens and I was long gone and opening the chicken coop door felt like walking into a lion's den.
The chickens seemed like they were built for war! Poke-y, bite-y beaks, razor sharp talons, and surprisingly hard, whip-like wings with which they defended their stronghold. Never mind that they couldn't actually hurt you with any of these weapons- it was just the idea that they were using them against you! They had every advantage- including flight! But I had the clever mind of a child (and a dog, who was definitely more effective than I had ever been, but I digress) and realized that I needed armour. Lots of it. Oddly enough, armour is not readily available on most farms so I came up with the next best thing- my snowsuit.
Never mind that it was August and probably 45 degrees in that chicken coop. I could finally defend myself against the chickens! The Reign of Terror had ended!
Later that fall, both the chickens and I found out about the guillotine, but that is an upsetting story for another time.
Vive la revolution! Vive la poule!
UPDATE: The dear mama read this and sent a couple pre-snowsuit chicken outfits, just to give a little context. Please enjoy my embarrassment :)
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| See what I mean? Baby chick love! |
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| Trying to use my brother as a diversion. I thought it was brilliant as he couldn't run. Mom kiboshed that idea pretty quickly. But you can see by my mittens that my plan for resistance was starting to take shape. |
Love,
Hearts & Photos
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