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Chapter 8
Brady took Emma down to the feed store so they could buy some chick starter and organic food for their laying hens. He took her to the back where they housed the baby chicks in lighted incubators. The deafening sound of their peep peep peeps was happy, and it was no accident that Emma squealed with excitement, begging him to buy several babies for their farm.
“We don’t need them, Em. We have plenty of eggs and roosters of our own out there. We’ll have babies if you want in twenty-one days, and if you want me to hatch some, we will. But I want to do it with our hens, from our existing flock.”
“But, Daddy, look at these orange ones. They’re big and fluffy. These ladies are huge!”
Brady stared up at the picture of the fully mature Buff Orphingtons she was pointing to and then down at the babies, who were also bright orange, big for their age, and especially active. He knew they didn’t need more but decided it would be a good distraction for Emma, while they were raising their own.
“Okay, Emma, I’ll let you pick out six. You can pick out six baby chicks, not all the same kind, and I get to veto anything. I don’t want any Durkins, Cornishes, or quail, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. I’ll show you the ones I want, and then you can tell me if they’ll work.”
“Attagirl. Now I’m going to go grab the feed and put it in our cart, so you stay here while you’re making the decision but don’t go anywhere. I want you to stay right here in this room.”
“Roger that, Daddy,” Emma said.
Brady was still shaking his head as he left the incubation room, turning around to watch Emma go from cage to cage, remarking and jumping up and down and pointing at all the different baby chicks to anyone who would watch.
When he first got started with his flock, he ordered them from a hatchery in the Midwest. He would never forget the day when the post office called to say his babies had arrived, and in the background, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of baby chicks chirping their hearts out. He hadn’t been exactly sure what to expect, but he certainly hadn’t expected the hatchery to send them to the post office in live hold containers, because Brady expected to see them packed as eggs, fertile, and ready to hatch.
But having a farm was always something new. There was always some emergency, something to learn. He’d explained to Maggie, and to some of his former SEAL friends too, that you couldn’t be a good gardener without spending at least an hour or two a day just watching your things grow.
He learned the different colors and kinds of caterpillars that turned into butterflies and what kinds of plants they liked. He watched insects that took care of unwanted insects, like how ladybugs voraciously ate all the aphids on his roses. He had to mail order praying mantis eggs because nobody in the local pet stores or farm supply shops would carry them, fearing they would interfere with hummingbirds. One store clerk mentioned to him that it was because praying mantis liked to catch butterflies mid-air and occasionally would snag a baby hummingbird.
Brady thought that was B.S.
Several shoppers brought their dogs, pushing them in carts, some of them dressed in ridiculous costumes, hats, even sunglasses. One female pug with a diamond collar was dressed in a pink tutu. He knew he couldn’t bring Tate to places like this, because Tate wasn’t a group dog. He was strictly humanized. Rather, he liked humans much better than dogs. And that was one of the things Brady loved about him. Tate would never dress up in anything, although Emma had put one of her nighties on him when she first came to live with them, and the dog ripped it to shreds.
He returned to the incubation room, and just before opening the sliding glass door, he got a text from Maggie.
Just boarded, and we take off soon. Made the flight and confirmed my connections. I’ll text you when I land. Love you, and thanks.
She followed it up with several hearts and kisses emojis.
Brady texted her back.
Thank you, and, sweetheart, I miss you already. I can’t wait until you’re back in my arms again. Be safe, be smart. But be sure to come home early!
He followed up his message with several kisses and hearts and smiling emojis with sunglasses.
He waited for a response, saw that his message had been read, but got no answer.
Inside the incubation room, Emma was having a difficult time deciding with so many pretty little fluttering chicks running around. She was getting confused and almost broke down in tears.
“I just can’t decide, Daddy. I like these, I like these, and I like these. I wish I could have them all. They all need to come home with me.”
“And then we would be spending all our money feeding baby chicks and hens, and all the eggs they will produce? Who’s going to go to the farmers market twice a week just to get rid of all those eggs?”
“We could do it together, Daddy. I’ll help.”
“You forget, Emma, we don’t eat that much from the farmers market. All those eggs, we’d have to set up a booth and sell them. I just want to trade and sell a few. That’s all I want. The rest of the things we get in our own garden. And they’re better. Sixty-six hens is enough, if you want six more. Understand, some of these might turn out to be roosters, so you’re going to have to help me take them back here to trade them for either supplies or more eggs. We can’t have more than two roosters. Actually, one is more than enough.”
“Okay, Daddy. Then I want three of these orange ones, and I want three of these speckled ones. The speckled ones have blue eggs.”
“Those are the Araucanas. They are wonderful chickens, and we have several of those already. These Buff Orphingtons are supposed to be very good mothers, and sometimes they will sit on somebody else’s eggs. Some of the hens we have will lay eggs, but they won’t sit on them. If you want to hatch baby chicks, you have to have good sitters. These Buff Orphingtons will be great.”
He scanned the selection, found four Cuckoo Marans, and decided to pick them up as well.
