Chick Eve

Once upon a time, an ambitious new mother was inspired by Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and firmly made the decision that, by golly, little kids should understand food and the cycle of life and in order to do this properly should raise chickens, collect their eggs each day, and sell them at a stand on the corner.  As this mother held her tiny infant in her arms, she whispered "Charlotte, when you are...oh, let's say...four years old, we will get you some chickens."  Charlotte agreed wholeheartedly with a sigh, a gurgle, and a few ounces of vomit spewn upon her mother for final confirmation that this was, obviously, a fabulous idea.

Fast forward four years to the spring of 2011, to Chick Eve, to the night before our journey to Wildfire Farms in Erie to collect our one-day old, Craigslist procured, online-reserved baby chicks.  Time to put their new home in order and our home in order and to read everything online about baby chicks one last time.  First thing on the list according to mypetchicken.com (seriously):  put together a brooder.

No problem.  $39.81 at Murdoch's for a heat lamp, chick food, and a waterer & feeder.  $14.52 at Petco for pine shavings, a thermometer, and dog treats for the dog that will surely gobble up one of these baby chicks before May is out.  One plastic storage bin.  One kitchen table.  One outlet, one plug, one hell of a red glow throughout my kitchen.  Ready, set...glow.  I mean go.  I mean grow?