Friday, March 4, 2011

Peep

Peep, peep. Peep. Ah, a sign of spring.

Excitement on the farm was high when baby chickens arrived. Our baby chicks didn't arrive from eggs beneath a chicken. No, they came to our farm via a cardboard box.

Our playhouse would be off limits until the weather warmed up. Of course, our playhouse was the brooder house where baby chicks came to visit once a year. The brooder heater was set up in the middle of the small, brooder house. Lights heated the area beneath creating a warmth not quite equal to, but a good substitute for, the mother hen. When Dad came home from the hatchery with a couple of boxes, Brenda and I knew we were in for a good time.

The big boxes that held the chicks, had holes punched into the sides. Brenda and I had a great time punching out the plugs waiting for a little beak to find the new opening. (I equate it to the thrill of popping bubble wrap). Before the chicks had been lifted from the box, the plugs were gone.

Then we were given the task of lifting the baby peeps from the box after Dad removed the lid. How we loved the feel of the fuzzy, yellow chicks. If only they would stay that small and cute... One by one we lifted them placing them beneath the heater.

Not far from where I live is a farm store. It seems a little out of place in the urban area. Soon I will take my granddaughter to see the baby chicks. I love that we have a bit of the farm close by, so I can share that experience with them. Fuzzy heads and children. A perfect match.

I may not live on the farm any more. The old brooder house is gone. No longer will I pop out the little cardboard circles on the boxes, but I can offer my grandchildren a moment with a baby chick. Oh, yes, and I can pet a fuzzy head once more.

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