I had been wanting chickens for a while. Not really sure why. I've never been around them much. My only chicken memory is that Tammy Potter's grandmother had them. I vaguely remember a building full of chicks on her farm. I was probably 11 when we were there for a day or two visiting but I don't think that had anything to do with it.
This past summer we were at the Callaway County fair volunteering for the Fulton Jaycees. We took a break and wandered around the carnival area. I noticed that at one of the carnival games you got a chick as a prize. I saw my opportunity. James came home with us that evening.
James began his life here in a large, metal dog crate in the kitchen. After a few days Diana began to worry about him getting lonely and dying. (I did nothing to perpetuate this theory). Soon we came home with an adolescent chicken that we call The Other One.
The name came from the constant question of "Is that James or the other one?" My mother says we should give the chicken a real name. Honestly, at this point I can't tell them apart.
It's hard to have a garden AND chickens. Unless you keep the chickens cooped up all the time. I'm trying out bloodflower this year for the first time. Thanks for your post!
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