Pat made the trip to Tractor supply Tuesday to get them, and there were none. Evidently, this chick business is a big deal and not even the employees know when stock will for sure be there.
There was a little disappointment over dinner, but it didn’t last because I declared mint Oreos all ’round for those who made happy plates. Or happy cups, in Amos’s case, since he got really brave and had some strawberry yogurt.
Anyway, Wednesday morning, Pat called to be sure they had chicks that day. I feel like he probably skipped to his truck, because he was so excited about getting them. He said it was SO loud in the store with all the different breeds out in little galvanized tubs chirping their little hearts out. While he was waiting his turn, a guy and his wife told the employee they wanted 10 of each breed they had and 3 ducklings. I got a desperate text saying we might not get any that day either, but a few minutes later, Pat called and all I could here were little peeps.
He refused to send me any snaps of the chicks, but my good friend, Jamie came through, and Marnana was beside herself when I showed it to her.We loved on them, and Hank got his first handful of chicken poop. MH had to have a lesson in how not to pick them up since she kept forgetting, and Amos only wanted to poke them in the eye.
Once everybody and every chick was settled in for the night, we went to sleep dreaming of omelets and how we could name them all after characters from Once Upon a Time.
The downside to the master plan was that Pat had to get straight run chicks, so we aren’t exactly sure if they’re hens or not. According to my friend, Lauren Elizabeth, there’s a way to pick them up and depending on how they react can let you know if they’re roosters or hens. Out of the 8 we got, only one was acting hennish.
Uh… not what we had planned, but we’ll know in a few weeks, I guess.
I woke up pretty early to check on them after the first night and kept counting only 7. My first thoughts went to Gypsy. Like, well crap! She broke free from her crate during the night and snuck in the gated living room for a midnight snack. But after a quick look to where she sleeps, I saw that she was still in there and started counting again. I found the 8th one on it’s back under about 5 of the other chicks. Um… not good.
It wasn’t dead. But it was clearly not well. They came to the daycare with me so I could keep watch and nurse the sick one, and it was a traumatic day for that poor, fluffy, chick.
Aint nobody got time for makeup or hairdos most days so that’s why I chose to include this very flattering picture of me feeding our sick friend.
I took the healthy ones around to all the classes, and only the K3 & k4 classes got to actually hold them. All the while, the sick one was like “I’m not up for this crap.” and slept a lot that day. I fed it its special water mixture every hour and made sure it was still pooping (in our flippin’ cinnamon roll pan Pat used to separate it with. Thanks, pal!) and kept sending updates on its status.
While my children were clearly excited to be sharing this fun experience with their friends, sick baby chick went to be with the Lord on St. Patricks Day, 2016. It was a dramatic departure that took way longer than I thought possible. And to save the day, Margaret Hannah has told everyone “That sick one is the killeded one. It’s dead with Jesus ’cause it just gotted killed.”
They get it. So did all of my class Friday morning, when I returned with only 7 chicks for the day. The sick one is the killeded one, and everyone seemed to accept that for what it is.
They’re going to Nana’s house for a few days while we’re down in Mobile for a family adbenture (that’s what Hank’s always called them) before Porter gets here. Nana’s got a few pages of instructions for how to take care of them, and I have all the confidence in the world in her.
Keep a check on my Instagram feed, because I’m sure she’ll send me just as many texts of them as she does of the kids when they stay with her and my step dad.
Also, send up some prayers for our fallen killeded chick who is now with Jesus. We don’t want any of its friends to think they need to get killeded, too.
PS Here are a few more pictures from Saturday morning. Their down is being replaced with their big feathers (I’m sure there’s a real term for that, but I haven’t reached total crazy chicken lady status yet) and they’re just so neat to watch. You can tell by the picture of Amos gazing at them. He’s not interested in touching them, only watching. You know, he’s cautious like that.