Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer by Kelly Jones Read Free Book Online

I don’t know exactly how old she is and I don’t want to damage her kidneys. And what if the stuff I found wasn’t right?
    But when I looked in the nest box this morning, there was something that looked like a glass egg. (Although I guess it probably isn’t really glass, if Henrietta laid it? It looks like glass and it feels like glass, though. I can’t see anything inside, and I can see all the way through it. [Don’t worry, I put it in the fridge right away, in the back of the vegetable drawer so my parents wouldn’t mess with it.]) So I guess she’s a laying hen. She seemed pretty proud of herself, strutting around and squawking her head off when I told her she did a good job. It was a good thing I already told Mom and Dad about her. You could probably hear her all the way at the library.
    I still don’t know when Great-Uncle Jim bought that food or anything, but it would still be okay for now, right? And I didn’t know how many pounds I had, so I couldn’t calculate how long it would last me. I couldn’t lift the garbage can either, so I had to get my dad to help. Turns out, I have thirty-three pounds of layer crumble in that can (well, a little less because of the can’s weight, but I didn’t want to empty it to check that), so I should have enough for the whole summer.
    I did like the math part. I’m good at math, and you explained how to do it all very clearly. I was pretty sure I got everything right, but I had my mom look it over, just in case, and she said she was very impressed with my work. (My mom doesn’t just say things like that.) And my dad liked learning about the diatoms. We made up a song about diatomaceous earth while we were driving in to the post office today, just because we thought it sounded funny. So I guess it was okay in the end.
    I’m glad you had a list of what chickens should and shouldn’t eat too. I found an old yogurt container to put in the fridge so we can save our scraps for Henrietta (Great-Uncle Jim really didn’t throw anything away, ever, or even recycle it) and I labeled it so Dad wouldn’t forget. I’ll remind him when we cook and do the dishes too. Mom will like that; she hates to waste things.
    I think I’m ready for Lesson 2 now.
    Sincerely,
Sophie
    PS It was pretty exciting to find that glass egg in the nest box. Like finding a treasure. I love having a chicken.

June 18, 2014
    Mr. James Brown
    Wherever you are now
    Dear Great-Uncle Jim,
    Today seemed like it was going to be great. My parents decided I can keep Henrietta. Mom took a break from writing and had breakfast with me and Dad, and I made pancakes that were sort of shaped like chickens, if you used your imagination. It was sunny, but not too hot, and I found some old rope in the barn, and Dad even helped me make a swing out by the henhouse before he had to go off to his job interview. I’m sorting the pile out there into different kinds of things so I can find them when I need them. You could build just about anything out of all that junk, if you had enough time and imagination (and could remember which pile the thing you needed was in). I guess that’s why you saved it. Henrietta follows me around when I carry things from pile to pile, doing this very quiet cluck, and turning her head to look at everything. She loves it when there’s a bug under a piece of junk—she pounces on it and gobbles it right up. Then I sat in the broken chair and read the rest of The Hoboken Chicken Emergency to Henrietta while she sat in the dust and fluffed up her feathers. I was worried she’d be scared when the Henrietta in the book has to live all on her own, but she just closed her eyes quietly and listened. I think she really liked it. (I hope this town leaves my Henrietta alone, even though she’s unusual too.)
    After I took the book back to my room, I was heading to the barn when I heard a horrible noise, almost like a scream, but not human.
    I ran as fast as I could, straight to the henhouse. I couldn’t