And I really did not buy these beauties, but I strongly considered it! Aren’t they cute? They took me down memory lane.
My mom used to get hundred’s of wee chicks like this at a time and raise then from chick to pullet to layers to meals (the sad part).
I loved the babies and always wanted to keep one as a pet. But then they would grow into brainless egg-layers that meant chores. My love, sadly, lacked lasting power.
When they were awesome layers, it made my life difficult because, typically, I would not bring enough baskets to the henhouse for egg gathering. So, being ever creative, I started firing the extras at the henhouse wall. Target practice. Okay, and I may have fired a few at unsuspecting biddies.
Problem: The hens started eating their own eggs! Now why would they do that? It was a mystery for about two seconds till the wall check. The yellow streaks were a dead giveaway. I was busted. Big time.
I don’t remember what the punishment was. I may have even gotten a spanking. At least, I should have. And I only sank into that particular life of crime one season. I had learned my lesson.
Copper did not fare as well with his chicken sin. When our dog took off with a pullet in his mouth, Annie-Oakley-Mom got the shotgun and aimed over his head to scare him. Her scare was a perfect hit. The leg healed, and he never stole another chicken. (She was much kinder with me, thankfully.)
Like Copper, I learned my lesson and never took up egg pitching again, but I found other areas in which to creatively perfect sin.
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