the hens who weren't hens

Jog back nearly 5 months ago, we were on our way to Farmer Jim's chick paradise to pick out and bring home two brand new chicks. We were told, and I also inquired, about the chicks being "sexed." Roosters thatta way, pullets thissa way. Right. This was about half of the chicks that we had to choose from:

Isaac reached in and grabbed the two he wanted, and we took them home and fed them, loved them, and nurtured them. And occassionally chased and scared them. I feel like Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" by saying these things.




Fast forward about 4 months and I was busy doing dishes in the kitchen one morning and heard what I thought was a crowing sound. I turned off the water, and sure enough, one of our "hens" had just let out a "cock-a-doodle-dooooo!" I couldn't believe it, so then I went outside, studied the birds and said something under my breath like "it can't be..." Oh the drama!

I looked up pictures of barred rock roosters on the internet, and my hunch was affirmed once again. I called Farmer Jim, explained the situation, explained that I thought the birds were "sexed" and explained how we have been waiting for eggs to appear any day now. He said the only way he would know for sure if they were roosters were if I sent him a picture message on his phone.

Ba-da-bing-ba-da-boom.
He called me back immediately.

Roosters. 100%.
I called my friend who is also raising chickens nearby and I started bawling.
Yes, internet, bawling. "We have roosterswaaaaaaaah!"

In the end we brought them back to Farmer Jim and picked out two-no wait, three 100% pullets. The kids didn't even know the difference. In fact, they were thrilled they could Lennyize the chicks once more.





Rightfully so, they have been Re-Re-named Sweet Dee and Pam. And in honor of Lucille Ball's 100th birthday the exact day we got the new pullets, we named our third Lucille.