After writing about the feed mill, I felt it imperative that I introduce you to another place I have come to know-- the hardware store. My old image of a hardware store was that of an aisle marked by a blue banner hanging from the ceiling at Lowe's, printed vertically with white letters: H-A-R-D-W-A-R-E. This was the place to get all of the do-it-yourself materials Harvey and I needed to hang a picture, install a hook on the back of the bathroom door, or buy a length of chain to hang a basket of ferns. The projects were simple, and it was a place to go with anonymity, without a need to explain the reason or ask permission for the things you wanted to buy.
The chickens have changed that image for me. The store that I now consider to be my hardware store is one that I've been in only a few times over the forty plus years that I've lived here. The store is a relic from 1945--no air conditioning, screened windows all around the building, dust covering all the merchandise (some of which surely has been there for one or two decades, if not the six plus that the store has been in business), and an owner who waits on the customers in a matter of minutes from the time they open up the screen door and come on in.
But it is not a store you would be able to find easily. The sign posted on one of the main streets coming into town is not exactly a billboard, but it acts as one since it proclaims the name of the store and it's motto: Been Here Since 1945--Not Going Anywhere. The store isn't located near the sign; it's actually around the block from the sign, and if you were from here, you would know that.
Another thing you need to know is that there is no anonymity here. You must own up. Like enumerating your sins in the confessional, the owner wants to know what do you want to do with that thing-a-ma-bob you just asked him for. You might even have to tell him twice if he really thinks you don't have a clue about what you are doing. Then he will tell you what you need. It may or may not be what you asked for, but it will be what you need.
Harvey was building the chicken coop and needed to get a light socket for the warming room. Being the Nervous Nelly that I am, and fully admitting that I believe electricity to be magic, I had concerns that Harvey might kill himself putting in the socket. Are you sure you can do this? What happens if you hook up the wrong wires? Is there some sort of insulated glove you can wear the first time you plug this thing in so you can be sure you won't be electrocuted? Not only did I have life and death questions, I had questions about whether or not the light would be high enough so that the chicks would not touch the bulb and burn themselves, and if staring at a bare light bulb could cause blindness in the chicks, and whether frosted bulbs would be better for their eyes than clear glass. You can imagine the relief I felt when Harvey said we would go to the real hardware store to get the materials and the answers.
You might be saying to yourself, "Do hardware store owners know the answers to questions like this?" The answer is No. They know what kind of socket you need, and they have light bulbs that will be just fine for your brooder, but they are not concerned about whether or not the chicks will go blind staring at a light bulb; and if using a frosted bulb will make you feel better, they will sell you that one at no extra charge.
I went with Harvey to the hardware store. We went through the whole spiel about the coop and the socket and the light bulbs and ended up getting exactly what we needed, though we weren't really sure what it was we wanted. I think that might be a good motto for a hardware store: We give you what you need when you don't know what you want. I might suggest it to the owner the next time I'm in the hardware store. I know he will be there. His business has been here since 1945--he's not going anywhere.
