A sure signs of spring on the Schmitz Family Farm was the arrival of five hundred baby chicks. Each year the chicks would arrive around Easter. Along with their arrival came a whole new year of chicken experiences.

Since my father liked the cows, he spent most of his working days caring for the cows. My older brother liked the pigs and since I was next in line, my job by default, was to take care of the chickens. It wasn't my first choice but someone had to do it and in the end I grew to appreciate chickens and I think they appreciated me.

Chickens become full-grown in a very short time. In about five months they were all laying eggs. The eggs provided cash for the family groceries. I was one of seven children and even though we had our own garden and raised our own meat, there were other groceries we needed to purchase.

One of the stories I recall was putting glasses on our chickens. Chickens tend to pick at each other so the glasses were put on the chickens for a total different reason we wear glasses. It was to prevent the chickens from picking and hurting each other with their beaks.

When the chicks, now pullets, were about three months old we would catch each of the 500 pullets, hold them and install these funny little metal glasses on their beak. It didn't hurt them, but it did prevent them from picking and hurting each another. The whole family would get involved: my two brothers and four sisters and mom and dad. We would always put the chicken's glasses on at night when the chickens were sitting on their roost and easier to catch. It was a big job putting glasses on 500 chickens but the fun part was doing it with my mom and dad and all my brothers and sisters.

I would talk to the chickens and they would talk back to me. They were great talkers! They had so much to say. Sometimes I think I could understand what they would say and somehow I think they knew what I said to them. 

When I would come into the chicken barn, they would always hear me coming and suddenly stop talking. I would say, "Good morning or good afternoon chickens" and slowly one at a time, they would start saying hello to me, of course in their own language.

First one chicken in one corner would say, "Boooock, buck buck" and than another would start in, "Boooock, buck buck, buck buck" and than another, "Boooock, buck buck, buck buck" and soon they were all talking and telling me all about the latest news from the hen house. 

Sometimes I would yell and this would always startle them. I would say, "Be quiet you chickens!" and they would all get real quiet and slowly they would start their eternal racket all over again. One brave chicken would start, "Boooock, buck buck" and than another would start in, "Boooock, buck buck, buck buck" and than another, "Boooock, buck buck, buck buck" and soon the chorus of chickens were happily telling me again their favorite stories. 

A baby chicken is called a chick. A growing chick is called a pullet but what got us most excited about was when they became a hen. A pullet becomes a hen when they start laying eggs. Since we needed their eggs to buy our groceries, we were always very excited when this time finally arrived. We all took great pride in finding the first pullet eggs for the season. 

Now, my job of caring for the chickens became even more difficult. Not only did I have to feed them their feed, grit, oyster shells and water, but now I had to gather the eggs as well. When the chickens began to lay eggs, they would go into special nests we built for them. We would put straw in the nests and the chickens would love to go there and lay their eggs. Sometimes the chickens didn't like it when I took their eggs. They would let me know by picking at my hand. Most of the time, however, if I was gentle, I could reach my hand under their chest, find the eggs and carefully put them in the basket. 

Each day my job was to report to my mother how many eggs I gathered and write it on the calendar. I remember I was often easily distracted and would tend to loose count. Usually there were around two hundred eggs, so I would just guess some number near that and write it down. It was always so much more fun to talk and sing with the chickens.

Today our chicken barn is no longer but their memories will be with me forever. "Buuuuck, buck buck, buck buck!"

Don Schmitz is a popular speaker and writer on parenting and grandparenting. He is the author of The New Face of Grandparenting…Why Parents Need Their Own Parents and founder of The Grandkidsandme Foundation and Grandparent Camps. Don holds graduate degrees in Education, Administration and Human Development. He is the father to three sons and nine grandchildren. Contact Don@grandkidsandme.com