It's a special day at the Devito house today and not just because I get to write for Nessa, which is a HUGE honor for someone who just started doing this. Today I got to be the Chickie Mama come full circle. I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I had jokingly told my husband that we should get some chicks and just make our own eggs. (I'm not really sure if you raise eggs, make eggs, get eggs... you understand.) So, I joke and the next thing I know we have Disney World for chickens in my back yard, complete with an underground tunnel, a coup with a window and screens and a ramp and electrical outlets. Its amazing. Not to mention that the caged part that they can take the tunnel UNDERGROUND to get in to would keep lions out. He build this stellar chicken hotel and brought home 10 fuzzy little wonders.
The kids and I, and even Kenny, loved these adorable little fluff balls and watched them grow - FAST. It wasn't long before they were ugly and no one wanted to hold them anymore. I figured that if no one wanted to hold them we wouldn't have to stand in the pole barn, for what I considered way too long, to stare at some ugly, loud stupid birds. I was wrong. They might have been ugly but they were starting to get personalities. Now, before you think I've really lost it, you have to listen. I would go outside to find Kenny (the hubs) watching these partially feathered little guys with a smirk on his face. Seriously, this is where he had been. I laughed until he called me over to watch, and guess what, he was right!! They were fun to watch. They were doing that whole "pecking order". I thought that was just some kind of old fashioned figure of speech, but its not! They really do it. They fight and finally the head bird takes his place and the others fall in line. Best thing yet, I knew which ones I was going to like and which ones would get the ax first - the only problem, I wanted eggs and I still to this day can't tell a rooster from a hen.
Go ahead and laugh but I'm serious. Boy chickens don't have.... parts. Well, they do but you can't see them. Trust me, I've tried. I've Googled and YouTubed myself crazy trying to see a chicken penis and they aren't visible! I did, however, experience chicken sex the other day. Cross that one off the bucket list. It doesn't look pleasant but compared to cats, it seemed relatively painless for the female. So, now I have 2 distinguishable birds. One boy and one girl. The happy little couple. They might even be the two in the picture but since I can't tell a boy from a girl, its highly unlikely that I can tell you which two chickens are in that picture.
I stand outside and watch these crazy things every day and I have to say that for a girl who much prefers the indoors and gags at the idea of hamburger, I'm a fan. I love to talk to them and see what they do. My kids think they are as good as the dog as far as pets are concerned. (This may be a problem in a few weeks when a couple of the roosters "move to the neighbor's" aka move to the freezer.) This morning I was out checking out the gardens and letting them out for the day when I opened the door to the chicken coup and saw one of the brown hens in a nesting box. My Chickie Mama heart giggled! This poor little brown hen looked scared out of her teeny tiny mind and I knew what was happening. She sat completely still and just watched me begging me not to touch her. I shut the door and came back fifteen minutes or so later to find her still there but looking a little more relieved. I'm sure that sounds ridiculous, but she really did. She stood up and this is what followed:
CHICKEN: *Nervous look. Stands up. Looks under her squatty little body.*
ME: Hey chickey wickey. Don't be afraid. *Giggles*
CHICKEN: *Nervous look. Checks again.* What the hell is that?
ME: *Squeaks and runs for the camera.*
CHICKEN: *Peck, peck, peck* What. Is. That?!
ME: You did it!! Good job Chickey Wickey!! *Cue strange Chickie Mama emotions. Start snapping photos.*
CHICKEN: *Peck, peck, peck. Shrugs. Steps out of the coop.* Well, that was strange.
ME: *Snatch the egg and go inside to post on FB, Twitter and to text the hubs and call my mom.*
Call me crazy, you wouldn't be the first, but it was awesome. I'm a chicken grandma! My little fuzzy babies are laying eggs of their own! I'm probably taking this a bit far, but as I said, I'm not much of an outdoors kind of girl and I'm certainly not the farmer type. Picking vegetables in my garden freaks me out. Tall grass gives me anxiety but this, THIS was amazing. I've got a baby chick, or at least an egg. In my fridge. I feel guilty and sad for the chicken now. And I digress....
Read more from Megan over at Thoughts of an Oxymoron and be sure to come check out her column here next Tuesday!
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