No, I’m not talking about those delectable (so bad they’re good) neon-yellow sugar covered marshmallow chicks that are stocked on Walmart’s shelves this time of year.
Mark and I were in the Tractor Supply store today and came across a “tub-o-chicks”, complete with a red heat lamp, chicken food, fresh water, and a SALE sign. Only a quarter for a little chick! A salesman was helping a mom and her children who came up and said, “We’ll take 4, please.”
When my dad was young (in the 1930’s), he worked in the neighborhood post office, and every spring, boxes with air holes that emitted tiny “peep-peep-peeps” would come in. They contained spring chicks mail-ordered from catalogs and shipped out with enough food and water to last the journey through the U.S. Postal Service.
I was fascinated every time Dad told us that story, and of course, I wanted a few of those chicks myself. Today, as I watched the mom and her kids crowd around the cardboard box that they had brought to take their chicks home, I could hear Dad telling the story.