All the hue and cry over the culling of chickens brought me back to the time when I was still growing up and living in a kampong.
My mother was sole breadwinner working as a washerwoman to bring us up. Ever the resourceful one, she found ways to make some extra income that would come in handy during the festive seasons.
Rearing a few chickens was one of them. She asked a kind neighbor to help build a chicken coop. Some time before CNY she would buy several fluffy yellow little chicks to rear.
While they were still chicks, we kept them in a cardboard box and I had fun feeding them and watching them grow as their yellow downy feathers gradually changed to brown ones. Once they were big enough they were transferred to the chicken coop.
My siblings and I had many opportunities to wash their droppings every day with a broom besides preparing a feed for them. Sometimes we get an egg or two.
Just before new year, my mother would sell the chickens for some extra money. The chickens were in good demand because apparently they tasted better than the ones sold in the markets due to the feed they ate.
My mother did her duty also by giving a chicken each to 2 relatives who hailed from the same village in Hainan Island.
