I got to work today and heard this strange sound. Chirping. Loud, angry chirping. One of my favourite students, little Jesse, from my 1st class of the day (by the way, he's grown out of the drawing fire coming out of everything and is most interested in me drawing insects for him) was there already. I greeted him, "Hey Jesse! Do you have a chicken in your bag?"
He looked confused.
I pointed at his bag, "Chicken issoyo? Aggi (baby) chicken?"
"Ani, opseyo," he said. (Nope, no chicken here.)
What I was hearing was definitely the loud peeps of a chick. I went out to the hall to investigate, and finally found what the ruckus was about at the far end of the corridor.
These little guys were hanging from a broken coat rack, hiding behind a heavy broken door that's leaning up against the wall.
Chicks in a bag.
Fish are okay in a bag, as long as there's water, eh? Generally, though, other live things shouldn't be carried abound in plastic bags, should they? Should someone call PETA? Ah, me oh my.
I fetched a Kleenex box and cut up a Dixie cup for their food. (Each chick's portion of food was inside their plastic-bag-houses.) I lifted them out of their bags and into their tissue box home, where they promptly snuggled up together and shut up.
I popped my head into the Taekwondo studio across the hall and called out the names of the only kids in there I knew, "Hey, sangdoongees!" (Hey, twins!) These two are so cute, completely identical, they look like mini Humpty and Dumpty in their little white outfits. I motioned for them to follow me.
Turns out the bag-chicks were theirs. I showed them where their birds were, tucked in on one of the shoe shelves. I showed them the now empty plastic bags and told them the little chicks were angry, but, (pointing to the box) now they're happy. They bowed and thanked me in stereo. So cute, I couldn't be annoyed at them for being clued-out.
Poor little chick.
Maybe next week, it will die.