Chicken love and the accidental chicken mom

About a year ago, I confessed my fear of chickens, based on a scary childhood run-in with a rooster. I've come a long way in the past year. So far in fact, that I'm now a proud chicken sitter of our neighbors' brood of week-old chicks. Aren't they cute? They're even using our old cracked kiddie pool as a brooder (just goes to show there's always some creative "reuse" idea for things you think are destined for recycling).

Our neighbors decided to become chicken owners after a lot of research and planning. One of their major hangups was their travel schedule. They live like French people, and take the month of August off every year to go on a great family camping trip. So how would they manage to take care of their urban chickens and still go on vacation each summer? That's where me and my girls come in. They brought up the chicken sitting idea with us, and I was amazed at how immediately enthusiastic I was about it. I guess I had spent enough time around some other friend's hens to know they weren't anything like the mean ol' rooster Mort I met as a kid. I've never been much of a pet person, so having a important role in caring for our neighbor's chicks fulfills the pet desires of my kids, without becoming full-time pet owners.

The little mail-order chicks arrived a week ago in a box, squawking like the dickens. Tiny little fluff balls, cold and confused and looking for some love. There's 25 now, and the neighbors plan to divvy them up with some other friends who are still getting their brooders and coops ready. Our neighbors went out of town this weekend, so we've been happily holding, petting, and changing out their feed and water. It's been really fun to see my two girls reach out and hold these little fluffy chicks. My 6-year-old is especially enamored of the chicks, and even is enthusiastic scooping the chickie poop out of the brooder. So far all the chicks seem to be thriving, and even me, the old scaredy cat is feeling the chicken love.