Barred Rock Baby Chicks today? Yes, I'll take 18!!

If I were an alcoholic, and baby chicks were beer, Duane Jones would be my bartender and Jones' Feed and Seed would be my favorite bar.

Today, Duane calls and says, "I got some baby chicks in, pullets, Barred Rocks, Black Australorps, Golden Buffs. You interested?"

I had not thought about getting more chickens. 13 almost laying hens and 104 2-week old chicks and 10 3-week old chicks and 12 1-week old chicks is enough for anyone. That's 139 chickens. "Nah, Duane. I'm good." I say it nervously. I know I'm not convincing. I'm lying through my teeth. My insides are screaming, "I WANT MY BABY CHICKENS!!!!" I stifle the inner voices.

Duane says, "Well, you told me to call you when I had chicks I hadn't sold, and I just wanted to give you first dibs."

"Did you say you have Golden Buffs? Those cute little yellow fuzzballs that look like the Easter toy chickens that cheep when you make contact with their metal undersides at the WalMart?"

"Yes, that's them. You want me to hold some for you?"

My mind said, "No, Duane. I'm good." However, my mouth broke loose and excitedly said, "I'll need a dozen each, and I'll be there in half an hour."

Then, like some pitiful addict, I DASH over there and start pawing each variety and looking at the chicken poster on the wall because I have NO idea what a grown Barred Rock chicken looks like. Oh, that's a really pretty chicken - dark gray all over with white spots like a guinea hen, punctuated by bright red combs. Gorgeous.

"I'll take all of these Barred Rock chicks. How many do you have?????"

"Eighteen."

"OK, (I'm starting to slur my words now and gesture unusually) and I'll need a dozen golden buffs and a dozen black australorps, too."

I grab the shipping box from the hatchery and nervously count as Miss Mavis counts out each precious little baby. "OK," she says. "That's 42 chickens. Need any starter scratch?"

"No, ma'am."

I pick up the box after paying and stagger out to the van, drunk with the obtaining of more cute, fuzzball baby chicks. I hiccuped.

Fortunately, I brought Monty along to drive. It's 10:22, and the babies are doing great out in the brooder coop with all those other (and bigger) babies. My head's hurting now. Probably a chicken drunk hangover. I guess tomorrow I'll try some "hair of the dog" and see if that helps. I didn't buy all that he had, just all the Barred Rock. ;o)