Special Delivery

When the post office called me yesterday I was surprised.  I had ordered these chicks online from Tractor Supply's website and I had only gotten the shipping notification the day before.  I thought for sure they wouldn’t arrive until Thursday. I was pulling out of the grocery store, just a few blocks from the post office when I got the call.  The man on the phone asked if I had ordered them from Tractor Supply. I replied that I had. He instructed me to drive around back and he would meet me with the chicks.  

As I pulled around the back, I saw an older gentleman walking towards my car with three very large boxes.  I was immediately confused. I had only ordered 10 chicks. Surely, only one of those boxes was for me. And why were they so large?  The last time I had ordered chicks, the box was about the size of a shoebox. The man gently passed over the very loud, chirping boxes.  I stood there for a moment in shock. “I only ordered 10 chicks,” I told him. “Why 3 boxes?” 

  He shrugged and answered, “Beats me, but that’s what they sent.”  And he walked off.

I sat the three boxes on my passenger seat and pondered this new dilemma.  These boxed chicks took up the entire seat and were stacked quite high. Still dumbfounded, I lifted a corner to peek in.  There were chicks upon chicks, crammed in there, peeping their little hearts out. I peeked into every box. All three were packed to the brim with chicks.  There must have been a few hundred chicks between all three boxes. “What am I going to do with all these chicks?” I thought to myself. I wasn’t sure if I could handle having ten, let alone this many.  I had heard that sometimes hatcheries will ship a few extra in case one or two die, but this was ridiculous. How was I supposed to raise a few hundred chicks in my small backyard?

I decided that I would take the chicks home and figure it out from there.  What other choice did I have? The post office clearly wanted me, or any other warm body, to come pick up this noisy shipment and get it out of their office ASAP.  As I closed my door and started my engine, the older gentleman came walking briskly at me again, waving his arms frantically.  

“Those aren’t you chicks!  We’ve made a mistake!” He was out of breath, but relieved that I hadn’t yet left.  “These chicks are meant to go to the Tractor Supply Store. Your chicks are around front.”  

I was somewhat relieved to not have several hundred chicks to take care of, but was mentally prepping myself for one wild adventure in poultry raising.  I drove around front and picked up my little, shoebox sized, package of ten chicks.  

Ten will be plenty for this little homestead.  If not, at least I know that Tractor Supply is well stocked in chicks.  

March 2010:  One of my favorite pictures of Jameson on his very first Easter.