When I went to the feed store the other day, there were all sorts of chicks for sale.
 
I drove home and talked to my husband about getting a few to enhance our flock of, um, one. Gwen-the-Hen definitely needs some avian companions, or at least a fellow bird or two to hen peck. (I suppose she'd need a rooster for that, but that is not happening anytime soon.) Well, she who hesitates is lost, and the feed store sold out of chicks before I made up my mind on which breeds we should get.

"Not to worry", quipped my husband, "Just go on line and order a few." And with the click of a button, I was in chick world. Who knew there were so many breeds of chickens? My eyes glazed over and my brain seized up; I haven't used that much cognitive ability since before I had children. There were chickens that lay colorful eggs, chickens for meat, chickens for egg laying (yes! I wanted those), colorful chickens, docile chickens, chickens for pets, chicken diapers (honestly, some people keep them in the house but I draw the line. No chickens inside...only baby goats.) 

We finally decided on Hubbard's Golden Comets (the breed we had before), Australorps (because my daughter loved the name and began chanting "Australorp! Australorp! Australorp!" repeatedly, until I just had to add them to the list to get her to be quiet), and Speckled Sussexes because they are pretty.

The breed issue decided, we had to figure out how many chicks to get. My husband thought we should get fifty, but I wisely put down twenty five. (Seriously, with the goats and the horses, who is going to take care of that many chickens?) My husband assured me that we would be able to sell or give away any chicks we didn't need, so off I went to find the credit card.

Never leave your computer unattended when there are maniacal farmer types living under your roof! By the time I returned with my wallet, my husband had upped the totals to twenty five Australorps, twenty five Golden Comets, and twenty five Speckled Sussexes (but thankfully, no partridge in a pear tree).

         If you saw the roof blow off of our house, it was probably a result of the following conversation:

"Are you crazy? What are we going to do with SEVENTY FIVE CHICKENS?!!!!"

    "They're cheaper if you buy them in bulk."

"You can't be serious. This isn't a trip to Costco! It's not like toilet paper that you get a little extra to stock the pantry! What the heck are we going to do with SEVENTY FIVE chickens? Where are we going to put them all?"

    "It isn't a problem; they'll pay for themselves. We can 
    sell the chicks we don't want and they will cover the cost 
    of the ones we'll keep. We'll get our chicks for free. It's a 
    great deal."

"Now I know where Dire Straits got their lyrics, money for nothin' and your chicks for free... Did you ever consider that maybe we won't be able to get rid of fifty chicks?"

    "We'll just sell the eggs then. Or eat a lot of chicken."

"You know I can't eat anyone I've met. So, let me do the math. Seventy five laying hens...that's roughly six dozen eggs a day! Remember when we only had ten chickens and every meal I made had to have eggs and goat cheese in it? The children will rebel. Oh, wait, they're teenagers, they already are! They will rebel more; there's a frightening thought."

    "Okay, we'll get fifty."

I gave him the look. 

    "It makes a lot of economical sense to order more."

He got the I'm-going-to-hurt-you-while-you're-sleeping look.

On May 2 and May 5 we are getting our shipment of chicks; fifteen Golden Comets, fifteen Australorps and fifteen Speckled Sussexes. Guess I'd better practice the look. Eggs, anyone?