Chicken-sitting.

The past week has been a blur...... and each day has disappeared quicker than the last. One of our neighbors is recovering from an operation, and the rest of us have pitched in to take care of their cat, their chickens, their mail.

One cat, twenty chickens. The cat is very lonely, meowing and weaving in and out and around my ankles every time I go in there. She is desperate for company, and cats being cats, she is very unhappy that her routine has been changed. Our neighbor J lets her out in the morning, but then she's "stuck" outside till I go there in the afternoon to let her back in. On the hottest of days, I've found the cat with her front paws pressed up against the back door as she peers through the glass looking for someone -- Open this door! I'm broiling out here! And in she prances, her fluffy tail as high as it can go, then she begins the weaving in and out and around my ankles.... Thank you! Thank you! I was about to get a case of the vapors out there!

Then the chickens....... twenty of them, all about eight weeks old. Bigger than little chicks, less than half the size of my own four full-grown hens. The neighbor got them the week before Easter, and they were only a day or two old. He had to coddle them and keep them warm and safe and away from the yard till they were big enough and feathered enough to put out into his coop. They are all used to be touched and handled, and we're able to pick each one up and they're very content to just sit in your arms or on your lap.

As little as they are, they are establishing a pecking order. It's funny to see-- two chickens, beak to beak, not blinking an eye, both trying to intimidate the other. I guess the one who blinks first is the loser. I've gotten the chicks to follow me into the coop as I hold two slices of white bread in my hands (which they can clearly see). As I walk towards the coop, I make a clicking/tsking sound with my tongue. Somehow, it works-- especially the white bread, since the neighbor said that his chickens don't like whole wheat or rye.

I've gotten into the habit of doing a head-count when the chickens follow me into the coop in the late afternoons.... which is a lot harder to do than checking to make sure my own four are in our coop. The smaller the chickens are, the more likely they are to bunch up together, wing to wing, feathers to feathers, in a football huddle of poultry. Yesterday, one of the chickens managed to steal half a slice of bread out of my husband's hand and she ran into the corner of the coop with it. My husband, not to be outdone by a chicken, got the bread away from the bird and made her share it with the others.

Out of those twenty birds, there might be a 75% chance that most of them are roosters. When you buy young chicks like that, there's no telling what sex they are, unless they're old enough to do a sex-test on them, which drives up the cost of the flock considerably. So our neighbor took his chances...... just ordered 20 chicks, and he'll know in time how many are hens and how many are chickens.

And what will he do with an abundance of roosters? "Chicken soup, fried chicken, roast chicken," was his answer. "No, really..." said I. And he repeated "Chicken soup.... fried chicken....." So I guess he wasn't kidding.

I was thinking about getting a rooster........ if the neighbor ends up with too many roosters, maybe he would give us one. I tossed that idea around with my husband. He doesn't think a rooster would be a good idea. First of all, we'd have the constant crowing-- roosters don't only crow their chicken-hearts out in the morning. Secondly, we would have to put the rooster into our coop with the hens.... and our hens are quite happy without having a rooster in there with them. As our neighbor says-- "Roosters are only interesting in two things: fighting and ----ing." (You can fill in the blanks.... not exactly the King's English, but those are his words, not mine.)

Taking care of other people's pets.... it's not for me. Of course, I do it for friends and neighbors, but I could never make a business out of it, and I have so much respect for those who do, like our old pet-sitter back in Clear Lake. We would leave the house and go off on a trip, and he took care of our pets, our mail, our home.... took out the trash, put on lights, played with the cats, walked the dog, cleaning up after them all and taking pictures of them and making them feel safe and loved and not alone. He has made a successful second career of this....... so much so that he's had to turn down new clients because there's only one of him and only 24 hours in a day.

It's nerve-wracking for me, worrying about twenty little chickens running around the neighbor's yard all morning and afternoon--- and there have been days when I've driven over there and locked them all into the coop extra-early because I've seen hawks flying over the property there. I don't want any os their chickens disappearing on "my watch." And the cat..... so terribly lonely, so confused.... I sit there and play with her, and I start talking to her the minute I walk in the door.... "Where's my Heidi girl? Look at that beautiful cat.... how are you today... let's go see what's in that litter box of yours.... this is the highlight of my day, Heidi-girl..... let's give you some fresh water.... and where's that little purple mouse of yours....." And Heidi will look at me, with the saddest of cat-eyes, with the saddest of meows.... Where did my momma and daddy go? And when are they coming back?

As I've said before...... I am all petted-out these days...... in one way or another, these pets, whether they're yours or someone else's..... they just keep putting little cracks into your heart till it just breaks in two. And the neighbor's cat.... it's a big fluffy cat, with a big fluffy tail..... doesn't have blue eyes like my AngelBoy did, but she prances and walks with that tail up high and preens like a ballerina, which was exactly what my AngelBoy did. Jeez..... I cannot believe how much I still miss that cat. There was a tiny person inside that cat of mine, and he is still haunting me.