20. A long
flat box with holes in it came by mail from Sears & Roebuck. Baby chickens! Baby chickens, fuzzy, cute, alive and noisy. So few dead after the trip from ‘wherever they
came from’. Up to then our chickens were always Plymouth Rocks or Red Island
Reds. These were White Leghorns with varied futures.
Imagine you are a baby White Leghorn in this place at this
time. Your options are inexorably fixed.
Boy chick- expect to be Sunday fried
chicken before winter arrives. Girl chick
– prepare to earn your keep . Get into
the egg laying mode, stay there and you will stave off the stew pot.
Ivy and I helped care for the chickens—daily filling food trays,
cleaning water jars. The daily grind alone took its toll. But to make matters worse those cute fuzzy ‘peeps’
became ugly feathered greedy hostile
chickens.
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