Back in February, I made the irrational, irresponsible, and spontaneous decision that Dave and I needed to get chickens immediately.
We have always talked about having our own little backyard flock, but it was a distant-future sort of desire. Sketched plans for a coop adorned our refrigerator since last October. I leisurely researched chicken breeds, space requirements, and care for months. I thought that once I really had this backyard beekeeping hobby down, some egg layers would be a nice addition to our little ecosystem.
On Valentine's Day, after my creepy pillow creation went viral, I was feeling weird. February 14th was spent in a daze of interviews and emails, and everyone wanted to know all about my whimsical novelty craft. My brain doesn't deal with that kind of attention well. It felt like a big whirlwind of horror craziness that I couldn't control. So, after talking poultry dreams with fellow chicken-desirer Rox at a baby shower (which are big whirlwinds of horror craziness unto themselves), I drove to the nearest farm shop.
I told myself that I was only stopping in the store to learn more about what I needed to start a backyard egg factory, but the large metal trough full of week-old chicks standing at the entrance of the shop demanded that I leave with some new friends. "I want some chickens and all the things I will need to take care of them," I declared to a feed store employee. She asked if I already had a coop, and I lied and said yes, I had one. She walked around the store with a cart, filling the basket with all sorts of supplies. I didn't even care what she was choosing for me, as gimme chickens gimme chickens gimme chickens was the only thing whirling around my brain. After five minutes of feed-gathering, she led me back to the trough of featherballs. "One of each, please," and the babies were mine.
I sat in my car in the feed store parking lot, chicks chirping at my feet, furiously googling how to take care of my new livestock. I sent a text to Dave to let him know that, oops surprise, I got three chickens, and, because Dave is the best ever, he wasn't even mad. What a great husbie!
Dave quickly declared that the black chick was his favorite, and we named her Fernandina. Little Fern is a Black Jersey Giant--she will grow up to be about 10lbs, which is more than Nemo weighs. The other chickens (Vidalia, a Rhode Island Red, and Savannah, a Brown Leghorn) are expected to reach 6lbs.
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