chicken

I saw a picture of a baby chicken today and it made me want one. I like baby chickens. They are so sweet. 😊 I grew up with chickens... my dad fought them. (I never saw him do it, though; I just knew that he did). I know (now) that it's illegal, but back then I didn't. I was a kid.

Anyhoo, he kept females to mate with his big manly males so that he could raise more big manly fighting chickens. Well, sometimes the baby chicks, or "biddies," as he'd call them would get separated from the mama hen and since there were usually a few with chicks and we didn't know where it came from I'd take it in. I would hold it and love it. I'd walk with it in the grass and show it bugs to eat. I'd sneak it in the house and nap with it. They would always nestle up under my neck because it was warm, I guess. There down is SO soft against your skin. And let me tell ya - there's nothing sweeter than the little content chirps of a baby chicken. 😍

Sometimes due to all of the chickens in the yard owls and hawks would come around looking for a snack. My dad would always run out with a shot gun to scare it off or kill it, whichever he could manage. One afternoon after such an event occurred the night before I was outside helping dad feed the chickens and such and he said he might have to kill one - that he thought an owl had hurt it bad enough that it wouldn't live. I cried and begged him not to. He said, "Well baby, look at it's eye. She can't see to take care of herself."

Sure enough her eye was just gone among a miscellaneous other few minor-looking injuries. I pleaded with him to let me keep her. And he did. So I named her SugarBaby. I hand-fed her and nursed her until she seemed much better. She ended up being able to walk and stuff, though sometimes a little crooked. She could even find her own food; it just often took her a few tries to pick up what she was going for. She lived pretty much like a normal chicken by the time I was done with her, though. 😀

Before it was all over with we became good friends. She would even come when I called her name. Every day after school she'd wait at the bottom of the driveway for me to get off the bus. If I didn't have too much in my arms I'd just carry her back up the hill and pet her. When me and my mom went anywhere and came back she'd chase the car back up the driveway (clucking and flapping her wings the whole time) and wait for us to get out. Needless to say I was very sad when she finally died. I miss her crazy one-eyed self.

THE END