According to my mother, I have officially crossed over into true country-gal territory with the delivery of today's mail:
Packed into that tiny box, and chirping like CRAZY, were 29 Buff Orpington chicks (4 more than we'd ordered, included by the hatchery for "insurance"), and 3 Araucanas. The Buff Orps are "straight run," about 50/50 pullets and cockerels, and the Araucanas are all pullets (females). All emerged energetically, with a healthy thirst and appetite, and set about making themselves right at home in the brooder we set up (just for the first 24 hours) in the office upstairs.
Bella, of course, was enthralled.
I've been a little concerned over what will happen with her in the event that some of these cute fuzzy chickies become dinner, down the road a few months, and have taken care to be honest with her about that outcome for some of the livestock. After she played with them a little, I asked her, "So, do you think you'll be able to eat one of these chickens if we cook one for dinner after they get big and grown?"
I needn't have worried, I don't guess, because I got an immediate, "Yes," followed by her pointing one out, and declaring, "I'm gonna eat THAT one."
Life as a farm-girl. At least it's honest. As for me, I'm definitely not naming any of the Buffs (at least not yet), because there's no way I'll be able to put, say, "Rosie" or "Gerald" in the stew-pot. However, the Araucanas are for egg production and entertainment value only, so if anyone would like to propose names for the three Araucana sisters, have at it. I'm trying not to have a favorite, but I'm not made of STONE, people.