Keep in mind, we have four daughters.  Four teenaged daughters. 

David pondered the broken leg most of the day.  What to do with the broken leg, he’s ask during dinner.  What to do with the broken leg, as he’s watching tv.

“Put it out of it’s misery” I’d repeat, again, and again.

What to do with the broken leg, as he’s using the bathroom.  Next to the toilet, as in most homes, is the garbage can.  Did I mention we have four daughters.

“I’ve got it!” he hollers from the bathroom, coming out with a Super Tampax cardboard applicator in his hand.

“Oh, God, no, David”

He goes to the newly constructed infirmary and slips the applicator over the chickens foot and tapes it to the leg.

To my shock and David’s glee, the chicken survived.  Now with the nickname “Half Dead”, understanding he now walks with a limp and crows with a lisp and the other roosters just made fun of him.

David’ with his chest puffed up, took on the nickname “Chicken Whisperer”.  Oy.

Half Dead did have one hen that would still stick with him all day long… Curious .  Mandy named her Curious because she would follow the kids around and sit on the girls feet out in the yard.

Half Dead and Curious spent every day together, while the other chickens played chicken games and ostracized them.

But the good times were short lived.

The Great Chicken Massacre

On yet another shopping trip to Menards, David’s phone beeped in with three messages.  He listened to the messages and relayed the information from Terry to me.

“Hi Dad, I’m just coming home from school and I think something got into one of your chickens, there are feathers at the bottom of the driveway”

“Dad, something definitely got into your chickens.  I can see a couple dead ones coming up the driveway”

“DAD, DAD, OH GOD, THERE ARE FEATHERS EVERYWHERE!  I CHASED AWAY A BIG BLACK DOG BUT HE’S KILLED ALL OF YOUR CHICKENS!  OH MY GOD” a tearful Terry sobbing into the phone.

We rushed home to find, what has since been known as “The Great Chicken Massacre”. 

Feathers, chicken pieces, chicken pieces with eggs still in them, and blood, oh the blood was everywhere.

He buried all of the chickens, and pieces of chickens he could find.

Then at dusk, he saw them come out of the woods… Half Dead and Curious.  Unharmed, together, safe.

And then there were two.

Now David, talking to his farmer friends, discovered you don’t have to wait to buy chicks from Fleet Farm.  You can actually order chicks online and have them delivered to you in the mail.

So he promptly Googled Mail Order Chicks.  I really don’t want to try to explain the various hits and pop ups that infected my computer when he did that.  It took a week to clean the computer of viruses and spyware.

He persisted and found a reputable place in Texas.  The variety of chicks you could purchase online amazed him!  Keep in mind, my husband can obsess.  He wanted some of each of the hundreds of types of chicken.  I limited him to under 20 chickens.  But I told him, no… more…. Roosters.  I simply can’t have the crowing when I’m talking to clients.

Complying to my wishes, he called the chicken factory in Texas and spoke to what sounded like a lovely, large, black woman who really knew her chickens.

“Is there a breed of roosters that doesn’t crow” he asked.

This very helpful woman replied “Oh Hon, put those roosters in a pot!”

                                                                                                                                  Continue Reading