I inherited a "chicken gene" from my Mother.

Thanks, Mom!!

My Mother, Doris King, and I in 2006 

 

 

I was born in 1954, the fifth of seven children.  At that time, my parents, Bob and Doris King, had been married seven years and were farmers.  Five kids in seven years and farming, too, that was a very busy life, but not all that uncommon for the farm families from which they both came.  At least that's what my Mom's always told me.

FYI - In 1950, 23 million people, or 15% of the population farmed.  In contrast, only 1 – 2% of the population farmed in 2007.  (Sadly there are more people in prison in the US than farming the land.  What a tragic reversal, but that's a whole other topic.)

My daughter Marni in Grandma's lap (1987)

As is often the case, the older I became and the older my daughter, Marni, became as I raised her, the more I appreciated my mother. 

How did my mother manage to raise seven kids and with such limited financial resources?  It is a feat worthy of a handsome prize and a huge reward!  Hey, Mom, is having all seven of us kids swarm to Lincoln once or twice a year a huge enough reward?  If so, I guess that makes Dad the handsome prize.  tee hee

Now, you may be wondering what in the world this could do with chickens, as this is the My Chicken Diaries blog. 

Actually, it has a lot to do with chickens.   I didn't learn until just recently that I inherited a chicken gene from my Mom. 

My Mom shared her chicken stories with me for the first time on Mother’s Day 2008.  What fun they were to read.  They gave me such a strong feeling of connection with her over the miles as well as the decades. She shared the following chicken tales with me and I found them endearing, priceless and worthy of a heart-warming chuckle or two.   

  My Mom shared her chicken history:             

Chickens have been a great part of me being independent....as long as I had a chickens.....

The summer between my junior and senior year of high school my Mom and I suppose with Dad's help for Mom never drove nor had any money, etc.  Any way she steered and paid for me to buy baby chicks and grow them up to sell as fryers....and then I got the money with which I was to buy a piano...I think I wanted to learn to play but it was not very realistic to go over the hill west of the folk's farm to take piano lessons on a piano and then come home and practice on a cardboard key-board...Now I had it $$$$ but apparently I had waited too long to be gainfully directed to play...didn't want it bad enough to do it, eh?, [for I never bought the piano.]

And then after we were married I got 200 baby chicks and raised them, butchered them and peddled them from door to door in Beatrice and that way I could, and did, pay for the 200 female chicks to rise to be layers the next year....

So there you go....I think you must have some genes which gravitated you to chickens and raising them.....

But naming them and not using them for food ....I do not know where you got those traits....but that is OK....We wouldn't want to do it the same....for the need for chickens to eat and eggs to eat were just separated in the progress of "How do we do this one! " 

I am glad you have Ron for he is a dreamer, an inspiration for those who want to "Go, Girl, Go".. Dreamers are fine examples of progressive plans....Gotta go. for it is past lunch time.  Luv, Mom

All these years, Mom, and I never knew I inherited my “divine chicken connection” from you.  Here we all thought I was just a bubble or two off bevel for no reason at all.  Maybe at least one of those bubbles came from you, Mom.