The chicks arrived yesterday amid confusion, hassle and panic. I found out 15 minutes before they arrived at the airport that they were on their way. I'm two hours from the airport. I was not impressed. I did a very good impression of a chicken running around with its head cut off trying to leave as fast as possible. Settling the dogs, I said, "I'll feed you when I get home." They were not impressed. I turned on the brooder light in the hopes it would warm somewhat before I got back. I figured I'd deal with the pine chips, waterers and feeders when I got home. The chicks would likely not be impressed.
I certainly had my share of Karmic revenge getting there. I am notorious for following the speed limits while everyone else on the island seem to think the speed signs are merely suggestions instead of law. However, today I was stuck behind every vehicle going a good 20 clicks under the limit. Passing on a two lane road mined with potholes and wavering pavement is not something I want to do. I animatedly talked to the cars blocking my way. Drivers glancing in their rear view mirrors would not be impressed.
I got to the airport hours late and asked for my box of chicks. The staff was not impressed. I hope every turtle-driver I followed in was behind me when I went home; I drove like I was carrying feathered dynamite. Besides, it's hard to concentrate with a non-stop chorus of peep-peep-peep. About 45 minutes away from home, I noticed the chicks had become ominously quiet. If they are not peeping, may-be they decided to croak. I pulled over and checked. They were all huddled and fluffed. I had brought water and a larger box so I gave each chick a beak dip in the water and put them in the larger box. I don't know if the road crew watching was impressed but they certainly were amused as I tried to figure out how to water the chicks without drowning them.
Finally home, one by one, I put them in a brooder that was still too cold. I fed and watered them. After a while they began to scoot around, spanning their soft, fluffy wings and tripping over their picky ugly feet. Little tiny fuzz heads bobbed and pecked. They looked so fragile. Campared to them, the most delicate and thin crystal wineglass looks as sturdy as a brick. And yet these breakable little chicks survived a flight and a long wait, I was impressed.
I certainly had my share of Karmic revenge getting there. I am notorious for following the speed limits while everyone else on the island seem to think the speed signs are merely suggestions instead of law. However, today I was stuck behind every vehicle going a good 20 clicks under the limit. Passing on a two lane road mined with potholes and wavering pavement is not something I want to do. I animatedly talked to the cars blocking my way. Drivers glancing in their rear view mirrors would not be impressed.
I got to the airport hours late and asked for my box of chicks. The staff was not impressed. I hope every turtle-driver I followed in was behind me when I went home; I drove like I was carrying feathered dynamite. Besides, it's hard to concentrate with a non-stop chorus of peep-peep-peep. About 45 minutes away from home, I noticed the chicks had become ominously quiet. If they are not peeping, may-be they decided to croak. I pulled over and checked. They were all huddled and fluffed. I had brought water and a larger box so I gave each chick a beak dip in the water and put them in the larger box. I don't know if the road crew watching was impressed but they certainly were amused as I tried to figure out how to water the chicks without drowning them.
Finally home, one by one, I put them in a brooder that was still too cold. I fed and watered them. After a while they began to scoot around, spanning their soft, fluffy wings and tripping over their picky ugly feet. Little tiny fuzz heads bobbed and pecked. They looked so fragile. Campared to them, the most delicate and thin crystal wineglass looks as sturdy as a brick. And yet these breakable little chicks survived a flight and a long wait, I was impressed.
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