by Kelly Jones
Al came at one-thirty to check the fire-safety zone. She said it looked good, and she signed a form for me to put on the coop so the inspector could see it.
Lupe and Chris kept an eye out for the inspector while Sam and Xochi and I went back to see the chicks. Their real feathers are growing in, but they still make the cutest peeping noises! I watched them for a minute and let myself pretend everything would be okay. I really thought I believed it too. I don’t know why I cried anyway.
Then Xochi gave me a hug, and Sam gave me a tissue and said, “You did your best, Soph. Let’s go see if the inspector’s here.”
As we were crossing the picnic spot, I heard the front gate clink open, then shut. I froze. We waited for the inspector to come through Agnes’s front hedge.
Instead, Ms. O’Malley’s nephew appeared. “Hi,” he called out, stopping when he saw us. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Lupe grabbed my arm. “It’s Jacob!” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Soph—I forgot about his visit!”
“You did a project on Redwood Farm for college?” I asked him.
He nodded, smiling. “My friends call me Jake.”
I checked my watch. We still had fifteen minutes before the inspection. I looked at Lupe.
Lupe nodded, and I knew that when the inspector arrived, she’d show Jake around some other part of the farm while I took care of business.
Chris was staring at Jake. “What kind of project did you do with Agnes?” he asked.
“4-H stuff, mostly—Agnes was my 4-H leader,” Jake said. “Then, at college, I did an analysis for Professor Shaw’s class on business plans for specialty mail-order poultry businesses. I’m guessing that Professor Shaw found it more interesting than you will, but thanks for letting me come visit, anyway.”
“I think it sounds fascinating!” Lupe told him.
Xochi rolled her eyes and grinned at me. (Jake was pretty cute.)
“Thanks,” he told Lupe, smiling. “So, can I have a tour? You guys sure got a lot of work done on this place since I saw it last. Looks like your picnic worked out well!”
So Sam told him all about the dance party at the picnic, since he’d had to leave early to go deliver more pizzas, and what we got done, and how everybody liked his dad’s pizza.
“Did you move all this gravel here then too?” Jake asked, pointing at the fire-safety zone.
“No, we still had work to do after the picnic,” Chris said. “Agnes couldn’t keep everything up herself, so there was a lot to do, like making this fire-safety zone around that coop. But we got it done.”
Jake nodded. “I saw lots of people working on the coops that day,” he said, starting toward them. “They look great! I remember the clucking when Agnes had them all full of chickens—it sounded like the zoo!”
I stopped suddenly, and he stopped too. “Only chickens?” I asked him. “No ducks?”
Jake shook his head. “Nah, Agnes only raised chickens, at least that I ever saw.”
That’s when I figured out that we put the swimming chickens in the right coop after all.
The wind changed, and I could hear the peeping from the chicks, loud and clear.
Jake grinned. “Can I meet your chicks?”
Everyone looked at me.
I wanted to say no, Agnes. Some people in town know I have your unusual chickens, but knowing that and seeing a chick breathing fire are probably two different things. You always told me to keep them safe, and I try really hard to do that.
But when Jake was younger, you invited him to see your farm. He’d heard and probably seen your chickens before. He cared about Redwood Farm too, I could tell.
So I nodded. I didn’t tell him that they were unusual, or warn him to be careful. I led him to the duck coop, which I guess is really a coop for swimming chickens, and stood back and let him see the dark brownish-gray chicks paddling around the pond in a way that Chris said would be impossible for any other chickens, while the light gray chick stood on dry land and watched.
Then the light gray chick turned its head to look at me, peeped a few times, and shot a little tiny jet of flame out of its beak. It blinked, rubbed its beak on its fluffy shoulder, fell over, and went to sleep.
Jake grinned. “They’re so cute!” he said happily. “Seriously, I never get over how cute chicks are. And the noises they make!”
“Yeah,” I said. Maybe Jake hadn’t noticed what the chicks were doing. Maybe he wore glasses and forgot them in the car.
“Do you like having chickens? What do you like best? Do you think you’ll ever hatch chicks again?” Jake asked.
“I love having chickens!” I told him. “I never had any pets at all before, but I know chickens are the best—except maybe Sam’s llama, who is very cool too, of course. I love how they bulldoze all the weeds and all the dirt goes flying, and how they always look really serious, even when they’re molting and funny-looking, and all the sounds they make, and how they will jump for a tomato but look kind of mad about it, and how they’re pretty much the only kind of pet except ducks and geese and maybe quail or emus that will lay eggs you can eat for breakfast.”
“And ostriches,” Chris reminded me. “And maybe turkeys.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” I tried to remember what Jake’s third question was. “I’ll probably need to hatch chicks again. Redwood Farm is my responsibility, after all. I was pretty nervous about it, and sometimes it was hard to know what to do, or what not to do, but Chris and Sam and Xochi and Lupe and this lady named Hort helped me a lot. I bet it will be easier next time.” I shrugged. “I’m glad you think the farm looks better now, but it’s still awfully empty, don’t you think? I’d like to fill all Redwood Farm’s coops with chickens again, so I’ll hatch as many chicks as I need to.” If the inspector lets me, I thought, and I looked across the field to the front hedge. But no one was in sight.
Jake nodded. “Isn’t it hard, though? Being in school and having homework and having to take care of a whole farm too?”
I shrugged. “You did it,” I reminded him. “Maybe not a whole farm, but your chickens. I was really glad to have help getting things ready here.”
“Sophie works hard,” Xochi told him seriously. “But her friends help too.”
“We like helping Sophie out,” Sam told him. “I mean, I have to take care of my llama, Ella, and I have other chores, but that doesn’t mean I can’t come help mow the grass sometimes, and pick apples.”
Chris nodded. “It goes pretty fast with Gregory’s riding mower,” he said. “And people liked Agnes, and they want to help Soph with Redwood Farm. Besides, it’s fun to pick apples and eat pizza. Not that your dad has to give us pizza every time.”
“I guess I do it differently than Agnes did,” I told Jake. “Gregory said Agnes didn’t even want him to help her. But it doesn’t seem…” I hesitated, and then I told him what I really thought. “It doesn’t seem fair to the chickens to turn down help, if it makes their lives better and safer.”
I’m sorry if that’s a hard truth, Agnes. I know you always tried to do your best too. But that’s how it looks to me right now.
Jake looked thoughtful for a minute, and then he nodded. “I can see that,” he said.
Sam was checking her watch and starting to get anxious, I noticed. “Could you just see if there’s anyone out front?” I asked her. “Sorry, Jake—someone else is supposed to come soon, and I don’t want to miss them.”
Sam nodded and took off, and Chris and Xochi went with her.
“You have really good friends,” Jake said.
I nodded. “Chris is a poultry farmer too—he made sure I didn’t help the chicks when they were hatching. Xochi is learning to be a zookeeper, so she knows all kinds of things about animals. And Sam’s going to learn about chickens now too. We built a coop for the place where her granddad lives,
so everyone can watch chickens when they feel like it. Chris did the design, and Lupe led the building, and Sam got permission, and Xochi scheduled their care.”
“Neat!” Jake said, smiling. “Will some of your chickens live there?”
And, the way he asked it, I knew he had been paying attention after all. He’d seen what the chicks were doing, and he definitely knew about your unusual chickens.
I shook my head. “My chickens aren’t a good fit for a retirement home,” I told him. “Sam’s family bought some regular pullets from Jane’s feedstore—Easter Eggers, I think. My chickens are better for experienced poultry farmers. Besides, I’m busy filling up Agnes’s coops again; I’m not going to be selling chickens for a long time. Maybe not even until I’m eighteen.”
Lupe rolled her eyes. “Ancient, like me!” she said, poking me.
I ignored her. “I want to do it right,” I told him. “Maybe things will change, but that’s how I see it now.”
He nodded. “I did a project on a farm once that was bringing a chicken breed back from near-extinction,” he said. “Chickens aren’t going extinct, of course, but there weren’t very many left of this particular breed. By the time the poultry farmers were ready to sell some, they had a waiting list a mile long. It can work.” He smiled at me. “I bet my aunt would want to be on your list.”
I nodded. I could give Ms. O’Malley the Redwood Farm Quiz someday, and see if she was ready for unusual chickens.
“Hey, thanks for showing me around, Sophie. I really appreciate it,” Jake said.
“No problem. Just let me know if you ever want to come again,” I said. Then I looked back at the chicks once more. “I might have more questions for you too. Is it okay if I email you sometime?”
“Of course,” Jake said. “Your cousin has my email address.” He grinned at Lupe, and she grinned back.
Chris, Xochi, and Sam hadn’t come back yet, and I was starting to get anxious too. Jake saw me looking at the front path, and nodded. “I’d better get going.”
“Thanks for coming by,” I told him. “Say hi to your aunt for me, and tell your dad again that everyone really liked his pizza, okay?”
He laughed. “Sure. He knows. But I’ll tell him anyway. See you around.”
Lupe and I watched him walk along the path and out the gate. Then we raced each other across the lawn to see what happened to Sam, Chris, Xochi, and the inspector.
But Chris, Sam, and Xochi were just hanging out in the front parking space, waving as Jake drove off down the road. “We figured we’d better wait here so we could tell the inspector where to park,” Sam said. “But no one came by.”
Chris shrugged. “Maybe traffic is bad.”
So we waited in front of Redwood Farm for a whole hour. Lupe and Xochi sang a Bomba Estéreo song that Sam and Chris wanted to learn, and I did some of the moves. But the inspector never came. Lupe said it couldn’t be my fault if I was where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be there, and we’d just have to reschedule. So, finally, we went home and made apple crisp.
It was delicious.
Your friend,
Soph
PS I tried calling that number, but all I got was a recording that said the office was closed on weekends. I guess I’ll try again next week.
Date: Monday, September 29
From: Jacob Lee
To: Sophie Brown
Subject: Report to the Committee
Dear Sophie—
I thought you might want a copy of the report I filed. You’ll be receiving an official letter soon. Let me know if you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Jake
PS Sorry I didn’t tell you why I was really there. My job is to gather data in situations like this, and we get better information when people aren’t trying to impress us. But everything I told you was true.
OFFICIAL REPORT FOR REDWOOD FARM
Owner: Sophie Brown
Stock: Unusual chickens (various breeds and abilities)
Inspected by: Jacob Lee, Junior Inspector for Northern California, Sonoma County office
Date of inspection: Saturday, September 27
Reporting on: The hatching of a fire-breathing chicken from a clutch of Mille Fleur d’Uccle Swimmers, and whether this new breed should remain at Redwood Farm or be transferred to secure facilities elsewhere for care and research.
SCORECARD:
(On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being the least likely, and 10 being the most likely)
How likely is the poultry farmer to request help when necessary? 10
How likely is the poultry farmer to provide a safe, secure environment for poultry? 8
How likely is the poultry farmer to refuse to sell poultry to someone who is not prepared for unusual poultry, or cannot properly care for unusual poultry? 9
How likely is the poultry farmer to refuse to sell poultry to someone who might cause trouble for unusual poultry? 9
How likely is the new chicken breed to thrive in this farm’s environment and with this farmer’s care? 8
What is the poultry farmer’s experience level?
Beginner = 0
Intermediate = 1
Experienced = 2
1
What level does the situation require?
Beginner = 0
Intermediate = 1
Experienced = 2
2
HOW TO CALCULATE THE SCORE:
Add up the points given for questions 1 through 6.
Subtract any points given for question 7 from the total.
Score: 43 out of 52 possible points
COMMENTS:
Sophie Brown is a responsible poultry farmer who does not allow her lack of experience to prevent her from providing excellent care for her chickens. Upon inheriting an unusual poultry farm in disrepair, she used creative problem-solving to bring her friends and family in to help fix the farm up again, creating new ties between the farm and the community. She has worked hard to learn what she needs to know, and is not afraid to ask questions. Upon learning of the upcoming inspection, Sophie increased her efforts to do what’s right for the chickens in her care, including requesting assistance from someone she has not always gotten along with. Finally, Sophie helped build a chicken coop for mundane chickens at a local retirement home, strengthening her ties to the community and increasing goodwill toward chickens, while sensibly deciding that such a public space was not a good fit for unusual chickens.
“Sophie Brown reads every book on chickens I find for her. She’s constantly adding to her poultry knowledge.”—Grace O’Malley, town librarian and vice president of the local American Poultry Association chapter
“Sophie never hesitates to tackle a responsibility, no matter how big it is, and always works hard and does her best. I’m proud to know her.”—Gregory Buchanan, postal worker and 4-H leader
“Sophie Brown never turns down an offer of help for her chickens. I admire that.”—Susan Griegson, president of the local American Poultry Association chapter
“I am writing to inform the Committee of this new breed, as required. But if you take that chick away from Sophie Brown, you will lose the trust and respect of one of the most promising unusual poultry farmers I’ve met, and mine too.”—Hortensia James, unusual poultry farmer, A Peculiar Kind of Bird Poultry Farm
WHAT RECOMMENDATIONS DOES THE INSPECTOR MAKE FOR THIS SITUATION?
The new fire-breathing chick (possibly a Porcelain d’Uccle) is undoubtedly an expert-level chick. Sophie Brown has become an intermediate-level poultry farmer in only a few months, but will require significantly more expertise to successfully raise a breed with such a challenging ability.
It is the recommendation of this inspector that such a promising poultry farmer not be discouraged by the removal of this new breed, but rather supported in her ongoing learning. In addition, the inspector notes the difficulty of finding more suitable flock mates for a chick with this ability, and the danger of loneliness among flock animals kept by themselves. Therefore, this inspector recommends that the new chick remain in Sophie Brown’s care at Redwood Farm, and that this inspector become her mentor, providing the expert-level assistance this breed may require.
Regular reports will, of course, be filed.
UNUSUAL POULTRY COMMITTEE,
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA DIVISION
Tuesday, September 30
Ms. Sophie Brown
Redwood Farm
Gravenstein, CA 95472
Dear Ms. Sophie Brown,
As recommended following your inspection, the Unusual Poultry Committee has decided to leave the sole individual of the new breed of poultry in your care, provided you accept the following conditions:
You will become the apprentice of Inspector Jacob Lee, who will provide guidance as needed.
You will contact Mr. Lee or another experienced unusual poultry farmer at once if you experience any emergency situation.
You are able to assure the Committee that Redwood Farm will not remain unoccupied.
Do you agree to accept responsibility for raising this new breed, with the above conditions?
