This weekend I changed things up a little bit. I attended my first ever chicken auction and yes you guessed it I am now a chicken “momma.” Luckily, I still had a little sanity left and let the pigs and goats go by without even bidding on them.
My parents were not quite as thrilled as me when I told them through text message. I sent “Congratulations, you now have grandchickens.” This was quickly followed by a response of “joy oh joy.” Then a “can we eat them or their eggs” came next. The sarcastic gene runs deep in my family, a little deeper than it needs to run most of the time. I mean who else would consider eating their “grandchickens?”
Risk-taker is not a term used to describe me. In fact, before any decision I usually spend days weighing and assessing the risks. I do this even with animals. Even though I have lived down an old dirt road my whole life and spent most of my time outside, I consider myself a little bit of a “Yuppie” girl as Phil Robertson would say.
I do not do animals, or maybe I should say wild animals. They are just not worth the risk. Frogs, rats, bugs, snakes, and even caterpillars send me into a panic-induced frenzy. I will pet every dog that I can get my hands on, but past that it is all kind of iffy to me. Despite all of this I have always wanted a little farm where I can sit in my rocking chair, on my porch, and watch my chickens in the yard.
My parents, unsupportive of my farm dream, reminded me this weekend of some of the earlier animal mishaps in my life including being chased by a rooster, while in North Mississippi serving summons with my old job. I mean of course that chicken wasn’t hospitable to me being in his yard, he was from up North after all. Fortunately, I have a boyfriend who will support my little farm dream and do all the bug touching, feeding, and caging for me. I can just watch my chickens and be happy like the princess I am.
Then Sunday rolled around and I had the whole gang over at my house including five kids who were just as excited about the chickens as I was. We petted and played with them for over an hour. Needless to say, those kids are a bit braver than me. I often sit back watching them wondering what they will become when they are older. I throw out doctor, lawyer, nurse (because your Memily will need someone to take care of her when she is older) and other careers we deem successful.
Watching them with those chickens for the first time I wondered if they would be a farmer. I was a bit ashamed I had never mentioned this career before. We get so engulfed in the idea of what successfulness equals we often forget the most important careers in our nation. Without farming our whole infrastructure would crash. There would be no meat for consumption, vegetables would run scarce, and resources would become unavailable that are easily accessed today.
Graduation is taking place this week for our county. Sitting at the ceremonies I will wonder who those kids will turn out to be also. There will be nurses, doctors, lawyers, and farmers in that room. There might even be a future president or CEO among the faces.
Whatever they choose to do, I hope they choose happiness. Even if happiness means getting a few chickens in their yard and finding a job that will let them write about it. There’s no amount of paper degrees or money that can compare to waking up every single day looking forward to what you have on your to-do list.
And if you are reading this and dreading heading in to your 8 to 5 don’t forget it is never to late to start a new chapter and finish writing your book a different way than you originally planned.
