Small Time Chicken Rancher

I stood proudly up to the counter as my turn came to order my product. There were a number of people waiting their turn as well. But then I suddenly felt really stupid as I tried to form my words. What do I want? What do I say? What if someone in the line up hears my ridiculous questions? “I don’t really want to be here now.” was my gut reaction – “but I have to do this! My chicken needs food.”

I do not know what made me say it the way that I did – maybe it was because my nerves were on edge… maybe it was the fact that others were listening… I do not know. But the minute that the words popped out I knew I was being laughed at – not laughed with…

“Can I help you?” asked the young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk. He was a seasoned farmer from the look of it and was now working at the “Rural Roots” Feed Store. For non “Peterborough-ites” – it is our local Co-op Store for farmers… where you can buy all things for farming and ranching and chicken ranching and chicken farming.

I blurted, “I am a small time chicken rancher with one chicken that my granddaughter loves and I cannot think of killing it and I need to know what kind of next level of feed that I should buy for this 7 week old Sexlink chick?”

It was then that I knew that I shouldn’t have blurted so much. My young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk smirked and tried to keep a straight face. He explained that the next level of food was $13.95 a bag. The bag was 55 pounds of chopped goodies. I explained that I was riding my bicycle and that the 55 pounds might be hard to fit on the back. “Is there anything smaller that I could buy and take home on the bicycle?” I asked. Nope was the answer.

I should explain that by now the others waiting in line for their turn were grinning from ear to ear… some almost busting out laughing at the fact that the “small time chicken rancher” didn’t need 55 pounds of chicken food… that he was on a bicycle and that he was looking for bargains… dirt cheep food for his ONE chicken.

The young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk asked me, “Do you know anyone that raises chickens in the area that might be able to help you by selling you a small amount of chicken food?”

The light came on – “Yes I do!” was my reply.

He suggested that I give them a call. He was a “kind”, young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk… that suppressed his laughter until I was gone.

As I explained further my attachment to this chicken called “Thunder” I stated that he(or she) followed me everywhere in the yard – as if I was its mommy…. Ooops – another dumb thing to blurt out as I backed away from the counter wanting to speed away on my bicycle.

That is when the gentle giant came to my rescue.

He was very tall. He had on his work clothing that made it easy to see that he was from the farm. His distinctive, well worn, cap told me volumes about his hard work – sweat stained and pulled on tightly. His red beard made his rosy cheeks stand out. The gentle laugh lines at the edge of his eyes spoke of a happy man. He could have been Santa’s younger brother…

He grinned at me and said, “My wife has 15 little chickens that follow her all over the yard as well. They love her. I understand.”

Then he turned and told the young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk that he would have 15 sacks of yadda yadda, 10 sacks of yadda yadda – all of it chicken food. He was a BIG chicken rancher!

I backed away from the counter slowly, slipping toward the door and my bicycle. I didn’t want to hear them laughing.

Oh – so now you are laughing at me too! Sheesh!

I called my expert chicken person that I thought of in the store. She was a great help. After I told her about “Thunder” she shared that we could expect our first eggs about the end of August or maybe into September. But if I wanted good eggs I needed to feed Thunder the right stuff… a 50% mixture of chopped wheat, barley, and oats mixed with a special food that comes in 55 pound bags. Then I would need to buy something that I think she called, “Shell Rock” or was that “Rock Shell” …. that would make better eggs… and I could buy it all at “Rural Roots”.

The words “Rural Roots” stung when I heard it. I would have to go back into that place and face the possibility of speaking to the young muscular, farm hand kind of store clerk… maybe I could hide among the work clothing and wait until he went on his break… and the older kind lady would wait on me…

Hokey Mokey – chicken ranching in stressful! I didn’t expect any of this when I paid way too much for this dumb chicken on the Easter Weekend.

I am embarrassed to tell the rest. But here goes.

We have used Pine Shavings for “Thunder’s” bedding. You can buy it at the Pet store. They use it for rabbits and small critters.

So I parked my bicycle in front of the Pet Store. I walked in as a curious pet owner – no more small time chicken rancher today… As I looked at the various plastic bags with the pine shavings in them the prices varied. What we originally bought for $4.99 was now $6.99. The next size up was $9.99.

The Pet Store Clerk asked me if she could help me. She explained that the same product was on sale today for $9.99 but in a MUCH BIGGER BAG of it. I looked over at the pile. IT WAS BIG! So I told her that I would take it.

I picked up the huge bag of pine bedding and walked to the door. Yikes – I forgot – I was on my bicycle…. And this was bigger than the 55 pound of chicken food over at the Rural Roots.

I was not deterred… I took the rope from my bicycle carrier. With a little effort I rode home with a gigantic bag to my rear.

Oh no! There was the BIG TIME CHICKEN RANCHER driving beside me…

I looked straight ahead with great purpose on my face… and pedaled on.

All I know now is that my granddaughter Emma will have to look after me in my old age – after what I have gone through for this silly chicken.

Hokey Mokey!

~ Murray Lincoln ~
www.murraylincoln.com