As you guys know, for Christmas my wonderful hubby surprised me with 2 sweet baby chickens. I’d wanted chickens for years and years and I was so excited. We went and picked out our little furry guys; one we named Chipmunk Chicken because he looked like a chipmunk and the other we named Mouthy because she made so much adorable noise. Grant built them a big wooden coop and a fenced-in yard with a sunroof so they wouldn’t overheat in the blistering hot summer. They live in chicken paradise.
Well, Chipmunk Chicken grew up to be a boy–quite the surprise, but he was just so cute and sweet it didn’t even matter. Although I’m sure it probably mattered to our little girl chicken as she was the victim of chicken rape about 10 times a day. Poor little critter.
The great thing about our chickens was that since I raised them since they were a week old, they knew me and every time I’d come outside they’d get all excited and start making noise and running around like crazy chickens. It was pure awesomeness.
Until Wednesday. Animal control dropped by and threatened us with a $2,500 fine and up to 6 months in the pokey if we didn’t get rid of our grown up Chipmunk Raper chicken. I could rob a 7-11 or molest a goat and get less time in jail. Apparently, one of our other (dick!) neighbors complained. Now, I understand if we lived in a quiet neighborhood that my chicken may have been noisy and annoying, but all you ever hear is a cacophony of a million dogs barking all day and night. Non-stop. Loudly. Irritatingly. My chicken, by comparison, was mute.
So, I asked my nextdoor neighbor (who the day before asked me if we wanted any of their hens as they were about to chop all their heads off–NOOOOO!) if she knew of anywhere that would take my beloved little chicken and not kill him. I also asked if she’d sent her chickens to heaven yet and if not, could I have one for my soon-to-be-lonely little hen? She, being an AWESOME neighbor, asked a relative who owns a farm if they’d take my little critter without beheading him and they agreed. Thank God. We did the chicken swap yesterday and now I have my Mouthy chicken and a new chicken, but no Chipmunk Rapey chicken anymore.
I guess it’s good because at least we got to save one from the chopping block in my neighbor’s backyard, but I miss my little pet so much. And I’m not the only one. My Mouthy chicken, who got much quieter as she got older, won’t stop crying. Now, I know you think I’ve crossed the line into insanity when I say that. I mean, can a chicken be sad? I know I can sometimes personify animals, but this chicken went from hardly making a sound the last 6 months to making this pathetic little warble. She just sits there, not moving, and making the saddest, most plaintive little noises. Even when I go into their yard to play with her, she just sits there crying her little chicken cry. There are few things on earth that sound sadder than that. I know she misses him. They were always together. Honest to goodness, never more than 2 feet apart. They slept cuddled together. They roosted together. They played together. It was so damn precious.
Here’s a video of my little babies the day we brought them home. Beware, I have my my mommy voice goin’ on so I sound a bit like a dim bulb idiot tard, but you’ll be able to tell I’m obviously in love with the little buggers.
Anyway, just wanted to share my sad little chicken story. My heart’s kinda broken…