Monday, November 10, 2008
My grandfather used to raise chickens when we were back home. It was a small henhouse at the back of the house. Every morning I woke from the sound of a rooster, which was great because I did not have an alarm clock. I normally woke up at 5 am to get ready for school.
He had chicken coops of different sizes and one large coop built especially for the hens, so they could lay their eggs safely. And we hatched some of them in the incubator that my dad built. I remember watching the chicks crack their way out of their shells. Some of them were too weak to break the eggshell; so I would peel some of the shell off. I loved them so much that I would also purchase them from school with my lunch money. I made them little beds from old shoe boxes and I added some torn newspaper and old notebook paper as bedding.
There was one hen who stood out amongst the rest and her name is “Japanese Chicken.’’ She was my little brother’s pet. She was given to my grandpa by one of his Japanese friends, hence the name ‘‘Japanese Chicken’’ (we weren’t that creative with names). We got her when she was just a chicklet but she did not grow much larger. She was only 10 inches long including her tail when she reached maturity. Sometimes we would play with her inside but she enjoyed the outdoors the most. We had so much fun with her. When we came to the US we couldn’t take her with us. Then we found out that one of our neighbors was so fond of her that he kept “Japanese Chicken’’ forever; so we never saw her again. I miss her dearly...