Monday, November 22, 2010

My pet: a chicken

I grew up on seven acres of land in northern California... up by the vineyards in Napa Valley. It was a gorgeous area. We had cows, horses, sheep, pigmy goats, a dog and a cat. But, did I milk the cows? No. Ride the horses? Once in a while... not really. I did help sheer the sheep. [In this instance, "help" means I stood outside the chain-link fence and watched my brothers and dad wrestle these dumb animals to the ground while I sucked on a lollipop and told them "you missed a spot." I was the little smarty pants, 8-year-old. Really helpful.]

Then, my family moved to Utah. In an effort to stay in touch with our farming roots, my dad built a large shed with a lean-to as a chicken coop. Then, he went to IFA [local farming goods distributor... just a convenient five minutes from our house] one spring morning and purchased six chickens. He was ready for those six chicks and knew everything he needed to take care of them.

He did, however, give me and my sister the following two responsibilities in helping him take care of the chickens:

1. Collect eggs everyday [Wearing a bonnet and apron while collecting the eggs in a white whicker basket was mandatory] [That was me being sarcastic...]
2. Name the chickens. Want to know what my sister and I named them?

Chicken #1: Lemon

Chicken #2: BBQ

Chicken #3: Grilled

Chicken #4: Sweet n' Sour

Chicken #5: Fried

Chicken #6: Teriyaki

[Yes, we really did give them those names.]


  1. Wait. I'm confused. Is there anything to this post that is true?

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. Yes, everything is true in this post... even the names. :)

  4. Wow, my respect for you has gone up! :)

  5. How ruthless! Not only did these birds provide food for you while living, but on a daily basis they had to be reminded of their forthcoming grisly demises...

  6. @Adam - why, because of my impeccable sheep-sheering skills or my name-giving abilities? Or maybe both? :)

    @Jonathan - ruthless?! No way. They know [knew] their purpose in life... may they rest in peace/ pieces... [whichever way you want to look at it.] ;)

  7. Yes, your smarty-pants sheep-sheering skills, and because you had pigmy goats . . . and your entire attitude towards the future feasts that laid in front of you.

  8. I'm majorly jealous that you grew up on a lil farm. I want to have a hobby farm when I am older, and chickens are the first animals I'm getting. They are so pretty and they bring you food (and are your food)!

  9. I used to have a chicken. His name was Rocky (as in "Rocky the Rhode Island Red"). My dog ate his head. Quite tragic.


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