She sings to them

It was just a thought I dismissed as I made the six-hour drive “home.”  Could I get the girls a chick or two?

My parents have had a variety of foul on the farm over the years. There have been chickens, geese, doves, ducks, and even emus.  These birds found their way to our various houses over the years in a manner of ways. One came home as a result of a school project in which several eggs were hatched in the classroom.  Some were purchased at auction.  Others were delivered by mail.

When grampa mentioned this very same idea on our gator ride, I let him know I had thought of it as well.  We conferred with gramma, and it was settled.  The girls were getting chicks.

We just told them there was a surprise waiting for them, and they happily went along with us to the tractor supply store.  Along the way, I had another thought.  What if the supply store had ducklings?

They did.  And now I find myself in a moment where now, less than a day later, I question my decision making skills under pressure.

You see, the store had minimum purchase requirements.


For the count, we came home with two Rainbow Dixies, four Pullets and two random ducks.  Yes, six chicks and two ducklings totaling eight little birds in our flock.

The ducks have been named Daisy and Donald.  (You can thank Wren for that.)  Donald is happy-go-lucky.  Unlike Donald, Daisy is not content.  She zips around the wading pool and has already escaped her new home.  She’s Wren’s favourite.

The chicks are mostly indistinguishable.  There is one Pullet who likes to stand proud and chirp; I’ve named him Prancer.  Chickadee named one, although I’m not sure which, Blue.  There is one who is a little slower than the rest.  I call him Shy Guy.

Shy Guy likes to sleep.  A lot.  The other chicks approach him every so often and give him a little kick as if to see if he’s still alive (which thankfully he has been).  I put him in a separate box hoping to give him some peace, but he found the strength to climb out.  Maybe he’ll be okay.  The girls are curious about him, so I just say he checked himself out of the hospital.

Although these are not pets, we are enjoying having them alongside us in the living room while we play with blocks, color with markers, and read our story books.

Wren likes to sing to them, too.  On their trip home, she sang them lullabies to help them be calm.  This morning, I found her giving a rendition of Old McDonald had a Farm.  The animals on his farm were chickens and ducks, busy clucking and quacking, of course.  She’s four now, and I hope these will be lasting memories.  They are for me.




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