Pecky

When I saw this photo, I remembered the Easter when my Best Friend's parents gave her and her sister chicks as a gift. The girls received the chicks at a time when live Easter gifts were not yet verboten, and well before Bobos started erecting chicken coops in their suburban backyards.

I sent the image to my Best Friend, and here is what she wrote:

Yes, we got three chicks for Easter that year: Becky (who liked to hop up on the Rec Room toilet seat to lean in for a drink of water), Specky (who had speckles), and of course, Pecky. They didn't last long though. Specky ended up getting sick and dying first. (Were those speckles really a sickness?) then Becky—on one of her toilet adventures—slipped in and drowned. That left Pecky, who was a rambunctious little guy. He pecked everyone. He'd hop onto my cousins dog's nose and peck him on it (do you remember Laddie?) Then he'd wait for the kids to come home from school to peck their ankles as they ran by, and finally the last straw was when he pecked my sister on her face. That combined with his morning "cock-a-doodle-doos" caused my parents to give him away to a farm (or so they said ... ?)

 
Suburban Chicago, 1968. Pecky stands in my Best Friend's backyard.

Here's some more snark to pepper the day.

Let's dissect a holiday catalog.

Don't miss the "Reclaimed Rustic Coop & Run" and the other items in the "Agrarian Collection."

These items bring this book back to my mind.

(Thanks to my friend JO for pointing out the deadspin post.)