You might remember that many moons ago when we lived in our first little house across town, our friends and neighbors had some chickens. Oscar was under 2 years old and he LOVED visiting the fence to look at the chickens. He would say hi and yes, even pet them when he was allowed.
It’s been a while since he has a seen a chicken (that wasn’t in nugget form) so when my Mom announced that they had acquired not one, but SIX baby chicks to raise into laying hens, I knew we would need to pay her a visit. We talked it up last night and told Oscar all about them. This morning on the phone, he asked Grammy what color the chickens were. He wanted to know if she had any yellow ones. She has two.
All the way up the road we talked about the chickens. I said he could hold one if he wanted to or just pet it. He thought for a moment and decided he would just pet the chickens. I agreed.
Fast forward about 20 minutes and we were face to face with the chickens. That is, I was face to face. Oscar was frozen around the corner in the dining room and Calvin was screaming his head off in a mix of terror, exhaustion from not napping well, and a bit of hunger thrown in for good measure.
Needless to say, we won’t be bringing any chickens to this house.
After about an hour, Oscar finally decided to approach the cage for a better look, but he never did pet that chicken.
Don’t feel bad for us though. This is great news! I have never really cared for petting zoos anyway and now I can just sail on by without even a twinge of guilt.
Even better? We get the extra eggs.