I remember when I was a teenager. We lived on a farm. World War ll was in full swing. It seemed that anything good was rationed, but chicken and eggs were not. Mother always raised chickens, even when we lived in town. But to sell eggs and have meat to eat took a larger number of chickens. Of course, she could let some of the hens “set.” They would be out of egg production for the duration of incubating their eggs into baby chicks and beyond. It was more profitable to buy baby chicks in the Spring.

It was hard work getting ready for baby chicks. Dad would build a brooding space out in the barn. I remember corrugated cardboard boxes torn apart and arranged in a corner. It couldn't be in the chicken coop. There was no electricity there and the chicks needed a heat lamp for warmth. Adult chickens and baby chicks don't nicely share the same space either.

The chick feeders and waterers were kept from year to year. They just needed cleaning up for the new arrivals. Chick starter mash needed to be purchased as well as medication for the water. Getting ready for them was a lot of work. The baby chicks came in the mail. We didn't pick them up at the Co-op. Their shipping boxes had holes for the chickens to get air.

Then the work began. Baby chicks may be cute when you hold one in your hand or see a picture, but they are nasty little creatures. Chicks will poop in everything, even their water. They will eat anything, even poop tainted feed. They die at the drop of a hat. Baby chicks are not the smartest things on two feet.

Mother started out by laying newspapers on the floor of the brooder. It had to be changed every day. As they grew, she would substitute straw for paper. It was a chore to keep up with feed and poop either way she went.

One of the first things Mother did when they arrived, after sorting out the dead chicks, was teach them how to drink. She would hold them in one hand and dip their beaks in the water until they drank. They found their feed all right, but were too stupid to know how to drink.

When buying baby chicks you could buy pullets or straight run including roosters, which were cheaper. (I never did understand how they did that.) The chicks grew quickly. We would be eating fryers by May.

Nowadays, there is a wide selection when you buy chicken. Back in the day, if you didn't raise your own, the stores only sold whole chickens. There were no individual packages of breasts, or legs and thighs, or wings, or hearts and gizzards, or fryer quarters, just whole chickens. Every woman from teenage girl to housewife knew how to cut up a chicken.

As I grow older and times change, I think back in amazement about the way it used to be. Nostalgia makes the old days sound good. But beware! The time will come when you are in the same boat as me. You will remember how it used to be. Be careful not to remind your younger generation or you will see their eyes glaze over and say, “Yeah right, Grandma!” You better have some good stories ready to tell.