Chickens

Chicken Chat

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It all started on a cold January morning in 2019. My mother dropped me off at high school on the first day back from Christmas break. I decided to take the back way into school through the agricultur­al department, which included my fourth-period class.

Walking by the back door, I suddenly remembered that our teacher had announced before break that she had ordered baby chicks! I hurried to the window and saw a horse trough with a single lamp glowing on the other side of the classroom.

I waited anxiously for my teacher, and she finally came around the corner and confirmed my suspicions. I rushed inside the second she unlocked the door.

As soon as I got there all noise ceased, and 30 pairs of beady little eyes stared back at me. Then school started, and I had to wait an agonizing three hours before I could see them again.

When class finally started, all of my classmates immediatel­y flocked to the brooder, and they were all giddy, giggly and googleyeye­d over the fluffy chicks. After we were seated, our teacher took them out, and we all got to hold them. That was just the beginning.

GROWING PAINS

When the chicks got too big to stay in the tiny brooder, my teacher separated them into multiple brooders in the school’s unused greenhouse. Now the class had a new job: Tidy up the new coops that the woodworkin­g class built to get ready to accept their new occupants.

After a little weeding, they were soon full of clucking companions. We were taught how to hold them properly, but because they weren’t

handled much when young, they flapped around and squawked (or rather, shrieked!). Oddly though, one of them, a Black Australorp, was very calm and didn’t make a peep despite being held for a while. I was the lucky winner to acquire that chicken and soon she became my “fowlmate.”

“I am going to name her ‘Mal,’” I said proudly. Her name was inspired by a recently watched veterinari­an show, which had a patient that looked just like her. She was the bird that prompted me to do our project for the ag showcase, which was to be displayed to incoming eight-graders to show the unlimited opportunit­ies of what one could do when they join FFA. The project was an exhibition on the different breeds of chickens we had, and Mal was the star of the show.

Five months after my first encounter with those baby chicks, my teacher wrote a notice on the whiteboard: The chickens were to be sold in a couple weeks. I franticall­y texted my mom to tell her of the news. We were finally moving to our new forever home.

I quickly bought her and some companions — another Australorp (Dory) and three Welsummers (Patricia, Betty and Summer) — and my dad and I bought and assembled an old-fashioned-looking coop, which could accommodat­e Mal and her few friends.

Nineteen months and nine chickens later, I look back to see what happened to that small project that happened not so long ago. We ran into many bumps in the road, losing some feathered friends, unexpected­ly acquiring some roosters, and even having flying problems (have you ever seen a chicken in a tree?!).

The one thing I learned, though, is that chickens aren’t merely creatures simply created to lay eggs; they are more like people, with their many different and unique personalit­ies and the ability to pick us humans up when we are feeling down. And you have to be very careful when you start keeping chickens, as you could start learning how to do chicken math!

Andrew Krueger resides in Sanger, California.

 ??  ?? Clockwise: Our other Brahma rooster, Millie, when he was a week old.
Betty, the leader, and Patricia, the talker, poise for a picture.
Molly, a Rhode Island Red, gazes at the camera.
Clockwise: Our other Brahma rooster, Millie, when he was a week old. Betty, the leader, and Patricia, the talker, poise for a picture. Molly, a Rhode Island Red, gazes at the camera.
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 ??  ?? Mal, a Black Australorp, and Red, a mutt, are best friends.
Mal, a Black Australorp, and Red, a mutt, are best friends.
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