June Notes in July

Monday, June 16

Day I: Post Office called at 6AM.Twenty-five rare breed mystery chicks are cheeping to go home. What an array—some w/ black bodies and white pompon heads, tiny bald eagle impersonators, some w/ sparrow stripes, one with feathered feet.

Day II: Found two nearly lifeless, chilled, trampled chicks--so trampled their bodies were flattened and they barely open their eyes. Sadly I tossed them on top of the garbage. “What are you doing? They’re not dead yet, are you, fellas?” Joe said, taking them off the top of the trash.
Joe has opened a small chick ICU in our bedroom, equipped w/ box lid, heating pad and small squirt gun with which he administers warmth, hydration and encouragement. It is one of the most endearing things I've ever seen a man do. Ah, my Joe.

Day III: Peeping kept us awake until nearly 4 AM, but when I woke at 6:30, it was unsettlingly silent. The black chick has died, but the yellow fluffy one is alert and hopping around. “I knew you could do it, Joe says. “See, and you were going to throw her away!” Too weak to be returned to the rest of the crew though.

Joe is smitten and says we’ll have to keep this one separate from the others. She’ll be his, like Isabelle who used to follow him around, come into the office and lay her egg in the corner on his pile of dirty T-shirts. We need to think of a name.

Day IV: We wake to find the chick who was recovering is rigid and cold. Maybe the heating pad wasn’t working. Maybe—but Joe says he gave her plenty of water. He turns away. “I’ll bury it, ” he says thickly. “She tried to make it.”