Cut-Cut-Cut-Kadacket

When I was a little girl, hearing one of Grandpa’s hens cackle after laying an egg, I heard it as, “Cut-Cut-Cut-Kadacket.” Eighty years later, I still hear a hen’s bragging that way.

When I’m in Kansas, the hen’s ruckus is part of my life’s soundtrack. Here in Tucson the soundtrack switches to the hum of distant traffic and the roar of Air Force planes passing overhead. Not a single Cut-Cut-Cut-Kadacket can be heard. I miss that as well as the contented clucks the hens utter while picking at the grain Dennis scatters in their yard.

That’s why I’m thrilled about Grant’s latest big project – building a chicken house. A Tucson architect had designed a chicken house for the Tucson climate and built one for his son’s school. Grant bought the plans and materials, and he and Dennis laid a concrete footing to anchor the house.

Then Grant spent part of his days away from lawyering building the outer structure. 

Photo by Dennis

Since then, he and Dennis have worked together to put on the finishing touches. They’ve built nest boxes that we can access from outside. And Dennis has stained the building’s outside. 

With an improvised a brooder that will keep baby chicks warm and provide them with food and water, we were ready to get some birds. That was easy. An Ace Hardware about ten minutes away gets shipments of baby chicks several times a week. We bought five of assorted breeds, but only four of them chose to pose for this photo. As you can see, two appliance cardboard boxes make a sturdy, protection for the babies.

Photo by Dennis

The only sounds these little fluff balls make now is  “Cheep, Cheep, Cheep,” but when we come back to the desert next fall, I expect to be welcomed by the old, familiar, “Cut-Cut-Cut-Kadacket.”

Copyright 2019 by Shirley Domer