On Sunday we got a response to our Craigslist ad listing four free Bantam Silkie Roosters.
When we ordered 15 straight run silkies last spring we ended up with a less than balanced mix of birds. Last autumn, four roosters made it into the freezers of some of our Chinese American friends who were willing to pay $10/pound for the bird that is somewhat of a Chinese delicacy.
Having recouped (re-cooped!) some of our initial investment, we switched the remaining flock from their pricey organic feed to a generic layer feed. Thirteen birds spent a cozy winter in the cute coop Mr Johnson & Co. created last summer. The extra birds helped generate the heat needed during the long cold winter ... But now, with spring finally here, the hens are less appreciative of the males in their ranks.
The interested party was enamoured by the crow of the rooster. She was looking for a pet and was willing to take two Roos ... She also convinced us to sell a hen after she saw the adorable little toupe colored eggs the silkies lay. (The fact that she met Broody Momma and her three little peeps that shelter under her wings helped too!)
Thinking back, "Chickenless Me" a year ago, would have been as easily charmed.
When she arrived Easter evening, with her husband and mother, she was met in the driveway by our youngest girls and a rabbit.
The chickens in the coop met us at the door. Two tiny bantam eggs had been gift dropped in the nest box. She asked if she could take pictures of the coop. She held the rabbit. Her madre reached into her bosom for her mobile phone and started snapping pictures too. Bei Bei called each chicken by name as she helped load "Soup Pot", "Kevin" and the hen named "Picky" into their carrier.
Our enamoured friend switched to Spanish and cajoled her husband to take note of the coop features and even the rain barrel.
I smiled a knowing smile, and Mr Johnson smirked too.
"You guys are us a year ago," I told them.
They left with three chickens in a dog carrier, two still-warm eggs, a ziplock full of feed and some fresh pine shavings.
On Monday morning Mr Johnson mused about how their night might have gone ... but what he was really thinking he left unsaid ::
That husband was a saint.
(My husband knows from experience!)