Little Chicks In The Big Post Office

and marijuana

(names and identifying details have been changed)

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After my conversation with Sally , I went to visit the post office in person. That's me, Isha Yiras Hashem, the responsible caretaker of small chicks and children. Things were quiet at the post office.

Everyone was excited to hear about the upcoming chick delivery, but they were surprisingly worried about the welfare of the chicks in transit. I felt a little bit like Sally, reassuring them that the chicks would be okay. I repeated what Sally had told me.¹

My cell phone number was prominently taped on the wall. How often do you get your personal phone number displayed on government property, by government employees? I was deeply honored.

Sally was wise to suggest giving the post office a heads up. It transpired that the mailman would have left a note on our door telling us that the chicks had been delivered. When he got around to it.

Meanwhile, I signed up for USPS delivery updates. They tell you things like: your package has been loaded onto a truck in Chicago, going to Texas, because the fastest way to send it to Florida is through the office in San Francisco. But it seemed wise to track live cargo as closely as possible.

Sadly, the text updates were neither accurate or helpful. The first one said that the chicks wouldn't be here until 9:30 p.m. on Friday. That would be Shabbat, and I do not use electricity on Shabbat. Maybe a neighbor would be willing to pick them up and care for them until after Shabbat. I mentally ran through the list of neighbors. It seemed like too much to ask.

I wondered if this request would be more or less ridiculous than the time Isha Yiras Hashem, new to the neighborhood, knocked on random doors, asking them to pick up antibiotics on Shabbat. We had recently moved in, my kids were sick, and I hadn't slept in a few days, and I wasn't thinking clearly enough to process complexity like “If it's life threatening, you can pick it up yourself on Shabbat.”²

The first person who opened up their door was a middle-aged man I had never seen in my life.

Isha Yiras Hashem: We just moved in to that house. 👉 It's my holy Jewish Sabbath, so I don't use electricity or money, but my kids need antibiotics from CVS. Could you please come to my house and take my credit card and I'll give you all the information you need to pick it up from CVS? I would really appreciate it.

Middle-aged man: If you do not leave my property within 30 seconds, I am calling the police.

At this point, it finally dawned on me that this might not be the most normal thing to ask of people. But I was so tired that I could not think of any other ideas. Thankfully, a kind neighbor - someone I had already chatted with a few times - was coming home. She was surprised and amused, and very kind. She wanted to make sure it was legal. I suggested she take a video of me absolving her of any legal responsibility. She didn't take the video, but she did kindly get the antibiotics. After Shabbat, it occurred to me that the entire thing had been somewhat ridiculous.

My point is, I feel like babysitting baby chicks from the post office is too much to ask of a neighbor, no matter how kind. So I was extremely relieved when the arrival time was updated to 6:30 p.m. on Thursday, 27 hours before Shabbat. Bedtime for our kids is 6:00 pm. That meant that the chicks would have time to adjust before Friday morning.

As an act of rebellion against technology, I try to be phone-free in the mornings. I defied our technological overlords and didn't check my phone Thursday morning. So I finally checked my phone at around 9 am.

There was a voicemail.

7:02 AM: "Hey, my name is Joe. I'm calling from the local post office for Isha Yiras Hashem. Your LIVE ANIMALS PACKAGE has arrived. Please come pick it up as soon as possible. We are open now. All right, thank you. Bye."

I cheerfully pictured the scene. I would wait in a long line of cranky people. They would ask me what I was there for, and I would get to announce: "I'm here to pick up live chicks!" You can imagine how this idea would appeal to me.

I got to the post office a bit after 9. Maybe it was too early in the morning for the scenario I had envisioned. There were no cranky people waiting in a long line. Just one person named John, and no post office employees anywhere in sight.

Thankfully, John was quite chatty. I never did get around to asking him about Nebuchadnezzar, but I did tell him about Isha Yiras Hashem and write down my substack's name for him. On a piece of paper. As he exited the post office, John discreetly put it in a trash can.³ Alas.

I was totally fine waiting and chatting with John. Especially since there was no one in sight, though we could hear rustling from the back office.

So I happily told John about the delivery of the chicks. He liked the idea. He even demonstrated his support.

John: You know, it's perfectly legal to have chickens! Lots of people around here have chickens!

Me, agreeably: Chickens are wonderful as pets. They are quiet, and they definitely smell better than marijuana! Ours don't smell at all, because we use a chicken deodorant spray.

(I should not have criticized the smell of marijuana.)

John, who did not seem, to me, like the type of person to be passionate about marijuana: Actually, chickens have a risk of avian flu, whereas marijuana is perfectly harmless!

Me, slowly getting the hint: So maybe that's not a good line of argument for me to follow, comparing the smell of marijuana to the smell of chickens.

John: No! Marijuana is very good. Chickens are a different thing entirely!

Me: Thank you for teaching me something!

Finally, someone from the post office asked if anyone was helping us. I said no. Someone else came out from the depths of the post office.

Post office employee, looking at me: Oh, you are the one with live chicks?

Me: Yup!

Post office worker: Where are they?

Me: I don't know.

Voice from the back of the office: They are on Bill’s desk.

I enjoyed the small town feel of this conversation.

At any rate they brought out the surprisingly small box. Gentle chirping came out of the box.

We went home. I opened it up, and there were 5 chicks instead of four. Chicken math again. I decided to worry about this in a few weeks.

1. Me: What if it's cold or hot on the way?

Sally: We check the weather and get the boxes ready to ship.

Me: How?

Sally: We print weather maps to see the likely path of the delivery trucks, and we provide warming packs or insulation rings, as needed. We take good care of the chicks in transit.

(From Newly Hatched Chicks, linked above)

2. Yuma 85

3. I'm still slightly offended.