I’m probably the least self-sufficient person I know. I don’t cook or bake, have a garden or make my own clothes. So naturally I figured it was time to get some chickens and produce my own eggs. Not actually lay them myself of course. I’ll let the hens do that.
I asked my friend Miguel where to get them and he told me about Miss Donita’s place in a little village not far from me. Off I went with a big Rubbermaid tub to find the perfect pollos.
It turns out Miss Donita does not speak a word of English and since my Espanol is no muy bien a lot of hand gestures and repetitions went on during the negotiations. – A hint on speaking a language that you do not well is: “speaking the wrong words louder does not amplify comprehension.” I learned this firsthand.
The problem was solved when her six year old grandson came to the rescue. Not that he could understand my Spanish any better that Miss Donita but he could figure out what I was asking when I spoke English.
I told him I wanted a rooster and two hens so he disappeared for a while and came back holding a ‘scrawny looking very young up-side-down scared out of its little brain’ bird by the legs.
“How much,” I asked? (“
After the translations and a lot of ‘Greek to me,’ I was told 15 dollars. Now this seems a little excessive considering I can buy a whole chicken dinner in town for 5 dollars!
Pointed out next were a white & brown hen about 4 months old and another dark brown bird that looked barely over the chick fluff stage.
“How much,” I asked? (My originality knows no bounds.)
More translating and five minutes of gibbering back and forth brought a sum of 12 dollars for the white one and 7 dollars for the little hen for a grand total of… well, you do the math. I would have tried to barter, but I’m not one of the most patient people in the world, so I just paid the lady.
Their legs were tied (the chicken’s legs that is) and the three of them were plunked unceremoniously into the Rubbermaid container in my trunk for transport back to my place.
Upon opening the trunk back home, I found the Houdini Chicks had all freed themselves from their bonds. One by one they hopped out of the tub, onto the ground and headed for the bush!
I lunged like a linebacker and managed to grab the white one and put her in the coop, (an old dog house reinforced with a chicken wire fenced yard.) Miguel caught the rooster but the little one was headed for parts unknown!
After 3 hours of beating the bush for this 7 dollar chicken, the search was called off and I decided to accept my losses. Poor baby, I don’t think she’ll last the night out there when the predators come out to hunt.
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