"Them Crazy Chickens"

Riah's entry:

At nine years old I won a victory in a long battle with my mother; she finally relented and allowed me to get a pet.

My dream pet was a puppy or a kitten that I could play with and cuddle. But my mother, likely shielding me from the reality that she simply couldn't afford it, tried to dissuade me in many ways. Her downfall in the argument was the rationalization that pets don't produce anything. While she may not have realized it at the time, this was the point on which she lost the argument once and for all. Her assertion that a tangible quid pro quo should come from a pet gave my  logical mind something to sink it's mental teeth into. I declared I would get a goat.

The goat wasn't to be, though. We negotiated our way down to two baby chicks for which I saved up my allowance and eventually we picked up from Buckerfields, the farm supply store. I got my pets and my mother would get her eggs. Feeling rather clever, I named them Henrietta and Chickery (note "hen" and "chick"). They started out in my bedroom in a cardboard box with a light bulb, gradually moved to the shed and then a  barn a short walk from our house. Henrietta met her end by a hungry neighbourhood dog and Chickery survived a move to another town only to be supper for a local fox. But I enjoyed having chickens and have many fond memories particularly of them as young chicks.

I've often thought about getting chickens again. In spite of a friend's generous offer to "take care" of the chickens when the weather turns too cold or examples set by some particularly hearty people who I have heard keep chickens in the house during the coldest months, I simply haven't had the gumption to get chickens in Yellowknife.

We're now in the tropics. The roosters wake us at dawn (we've tried to ignore them, but Maia opens the curtains and demands we get up saying "Mom, the rooster said to GET UP!" There are chickens everywhere with baby chicks in tow. The girls have been trying to catch them and were disappointed to learn that they actually belong to someone and aren't farell. Add to that the fact that the kids are at "Green School" where Chloe's class first knocked down and is now rebuilding a chicken coop. We've had chickens on the brain.

Wayan choosing out a chick

Chloe got up the gumption to ask the people who run the house if we could have a few chickens. They agreed and have been sourcing chicks and cages. Wayan, our driver, also got into the excitement and this afternoon told Alex and I that he saw some coloured chicks for sale. By this I assumed he meant different varieties of chickens. It has just never crossed my mind to dye chicks - I mean, dying easter eggs is one thing, but dying birds  is something I hadn't considered.

Chicken vendor - the chicks are on his bicycle!

We bought four chicks thinking of it as one per daughter plus one for insurance purposes. It cost about $4 CAD for the chicks and two cages. I get the sense that the vendor didn't even realize he could have charged us a tourist tax (probably not much call for chickens from tourists).   

Ava and Fifi

The chicks provided an evening of pure delight. Hopefully they'll survive and we'll be here long enough to have eggs. Chloe is tasked with learning all she can about chickens as she and her class build the new coop and  I will have to do a Google search to do my part to make sure they survive. For now, they're little pink, green, yellow and orange balls snuggled up in two little cages in the bathroom making very sweet peeping sounds whenever the lights go on. I hope there won't be any disappointment when the dye fades. 

Maia and Daisy