I don’t know when I changed from the girl who would throw herself in front of a beetle to keep it from being tortured, to the woman who cringed and walked away when baby chicks were in danger. Picking up cat food at our local feed store turned into an ordeal today. Oliver was delighted to see several dozen chicks in a trough, chirping peacefully. Calm turned into pandemonium as chicks were running from one end of the trough to the other to avoid two children (old enough to know better) trying to capture them. Their mother said, “Leave them alone,” and went to order her hay. The children stopped briefly then began trying to hold chicks again. I felt a pit of worry for the babies, so I walked outside to get my cat food (avoidance). As I walked back into the main room, I heard a woman say, “Don’t hold it by its neck, you are going to hurt it!” Then another said, “Look what you did! You threw it and it can’t walk.” There she was, lying under the other chicks, unable to move. We decided we needed another chick, and named her “Bea.” The boy’s mother paid for her. That should make up for Bea’s possible back injury.
Bea was happy being held and would eat out of our hands, but peeped loudly when we put her in her box.
I quickly started feeling guilty about having Bea sleep alone, so we drove back to the feed store to pick up a companion for Bea. “Honey” (Oliver named her) is probably the cutest chick I have seen and she seems to love Bea.
Bea is able to move around her box slowly and got a drink of water on her own. We hope she will heal as she grows bigger. Next time I’m yelling at the kids. I don’t care if they have a Mom nearby.