The other day I asked my favorite 10-year-old (aka my grandson Lincoln) to give me a topic for an article this week.
Linc: Uh, I don’t know.
Me: C’mon man I need help!
Linc [makes grinding noise]: OK let me just boot up my brain …
Me: [waiting …]
Linc: I KNOW – write about my chickens!
Oh snap. Now I gotta write about his chickens, don’t I! So here goes.
A few months ago, Lincoln’s mama decided to become a chicken farmer, right in the middle of Suburbia, USA. She would have to verify, but I’m pretty sure he was the only one in the household who was interested besides her. So maybe he started his chicken career by default, but I know he embraced the role very quickly, and named them … Soup, Noodle, Nugget, Stew, Pie, Cassie (short for casserole) and Teri (teriyaki).
I have to give my daughter props – “the girls” have a sweet setup! She has researched and researched, and told me that learning all the things is one of the best parts.
The worst part? Apparently chickens will EAT THEIR OWN EGGS! And then they teach all their other friends … its been a battle of wits for sure. In the end though? Christa 1, the girls 0.
The growth I’ve seen in him these past weeks and months has been astounding. He willingly and cheerfully (well mostly) does his chicken chores, most of which just sound gross to me. He gathers eggs, helps with food and water, and with opening and closing their little house. Sometimes he helps clean the coop.
Especially cool is the tender care he shows them. Remember he’s 10? And a boy?
This was a bummer day … Soup was sick, they could tell, but they didn’t know why. It was cold outside then – Lincoln sat in this chair warming up his chicken for a very long time. Watching her breathe, ever more slowly. Eventually poor Soup was gone from this world, and a sad boy was left behind.
He just picked up where he left off though, sad but determined. Before long they were the proud owners of four baby chicks (as yet unnamed since they can’t tell them apart). And two baby ducks, Flip and Flop. Living in their house, because they were babies. He was over the moon for them – still is – and he’s showered them with all the love he has.
Every time I visit, I get the “chicken tour” – of course I need to see how big the babies have gotten, and watch Noodle/Karen (she’s a bit of a pain) jump into Linc’s arms, and hear all the chicken stories. Even if I was just there the day before, the chicken tour is part of my visit.
I love this boy so! It’s great fun to visit his chicken world, and wow have I learned a lot about chickens. I mean, a LOT. And the changes I’ve seen in him carry over into the rest of his life – even at my house he’s suddenly picking up after himself without being asked, busing his dishes without being reminded, making his bed.
Maybe there’s a lesson in here for all of us … sometimes the very best use of my time is to keep taking the chicken tour!
Haha. That was a great story. So sorry anout Soup. A chicken with a name like that deserves a front row seat in heaven. I enjoyed it Angie. You know … there’s actually much more in that story. Maybe even a chicken book. Ha (But then again, I am a fiction writer and see ways where ways don’t go) In any case, a lovely story and thanks for getting it out.
Ha! PLEASE write a chicken story! 🙂
What a fun story! I love the way that you see growth in your grandson and listen so intently to all of his instructions and details. Maybe there’s another lesson–reminds me of the love of our Heavenly Father for all of His children! Blessings to you and your family, Angie!
Oh yes Bettie!
What a great story. He was right…. chickens was a great topic. Fun to see a lens into your gramma life.
🙂 It’s the best part of my world!