A Day in the Life of a Baby Chick

Baby Chicks.   They are so sweet, so cute, so innocent.  I may be weird, but I like the way baby chicks smell.  Sort of like the way I like puppy breath.  There is just something homey and calming about it.  We watch them jump around and flap those tinsy tiny little wings, stretch those tiny little legs and plop down and fall asleep on their face in an instant.  You fill their feeder and they are so happy to jump into your hand so you can talk to them.  Their world is perfect.  Someone who takes care of them, a warm shelter; they have everything they need. 

I ordered 10 pullets and 2 roosters the other day.  They came in with one DOA, but the poultry house had included 8 "males" of unknown origin for warmth.  Do I really want 8 male mouths to feed?  No.  They are obviously not meat birds, so they are going to be scrawny good for nothing roosters that are going to take up room and eat a lot of expensive feed.  But now what am I suppose to do with these extras?  I could just pull their heads off.  No.  Flush them?  No.  Bury them and pretend I never saw them?  No.  So, they go in the coop with the chicks that are actually worth something, to take up room and eat my very expensive chick feed.

When feeding this morning, I noticed one of these little useless chicks laying on the floor of the cage.  He was limp and barely breathing.  My heart just sank.  Picking him up and cuddling him in my hands like he was a priceless, irreplaceable, valuable chick I rush him into the house, wrap him in towels and put him under a light.  I talk baby talk to him and snuggle him so he won't feel alone.  In my heart I know this little creature is not going to make it, but something inside me wants to try to help it.  There is nothing that I can do, except try to make him as comfortable and warm as possible.  Checking on him every few minutes and noting that I think I saw him try to raise his head.  My heart skips a little beat with anticipation that possibly he could make it, only to see him take his last little breath and drift into a permanent peaceful sleep.  As tears roll down my cheek, I gently say, "I'm sorry.  I wish I could have done something to help you." 

This little male of unknown origin is now gone.  How can something that touched my heart in such a way ever be considered useless?

Rest in peace.

Born in The Wrong Century

Have you ever felt like you were born in the wrong century?  Do you find yourself wishing that you lived in a world that wasn't so fast paced?  Do you long for what your grandparents and great grand parents had?  The simplicity of life.  The close bond between family members.  Hearing laughter and chatter around the dinner table while everyone shared stories of what they did that day.  I do.  We get too busy these days to enjoy living.  If we need something from the store, we just hop in the car and drive to town.  It used to be an event to get to go to town that everyone looked forward to.  They maybe only went once every 2 or 3 months, if they were lucky.   Do you ever wish you could just "unplug" everything?  Well, almost everything. 

Over the years I've made changes in my life.  I grew up in the country, doing without a lot of the things my friends at school thought commonplace.  I worked in the garden, tended to chickens and I sat around the dinner table every single night with my Mama and Daddy sitting across from me.  When I married I left that life and became a little more modernized, citified so to speak, and I left behind a lot of the ideas I grew up with.  Now that I am older and 24 years into a second and last (thank you very much) marriage I've come back to my roots.  I live on a farm with all kinds of critters that I consider family members to a certain extent.

 I raise a garden.  

I also can the food I raise in the garden.

If I had to survive "off grid", I could probably do so without much fuss.  I have a wood cook stove at the ready when it is needed.  Actually, I had rather cook on it more than on the fancy propane stove because you don't have to clean up the grease splatters on it.  I have central air and heat, but also have wood heaters.  Nothing smells as good as that first fire you get going on a cool autumn morning.  I have a nice washer and dryer, but I am in the process of putting together a couple of square galvanized tubs, on a homemade stand with a hand cranked wringer.  I also bought one of those things called The Breathing Mobile Washer that you swish your clothes up and down with to wash them.  And, believe it or not, I bought a brand spanking new rub board at the local hardware store.  Will I use these items to wash every single load of clothes from now on?   Nope.  Just like I don't hang every single load of clothes out on my newly reconditioned clothes lines, but when it is sunny and I'm in the mood to do it, I can.  My Daddy always said, it's better to have something and not need it than to need it and not have it.  Same is true for knowing how to do something. 

In this blog I hope to share some of the things that happen in the day to day lives of people who are trying to live a more simple way of life.  I want to tell you stories of when I was growing up.  I want to share stories that my Daddy told me.  I want to create a page where we all can go back in time and remember "when we used to do that" and may realize that we can recapture some of that simplicity and innocence lost, if we take the time to "unplug".