Live Easter Pets May Not Be a Good Gift for Small Children

Long before Christianity and even Judaism, people celebrated the Spring season with a special reverence for the symbol of new life, the Egg. It's been years since I've seen a real live baby chick or duckling but I remember how cute they are. It would be hard to find a more precious little creature than that and to combine the little darlings with toddlers respendent in Easter finery is to guarantee a real "Kodak moment" or at least that's what a lot of well-meaning people will think as they succumb to the temptation to buy the kids living Easter pets. This may not be a good idea for a whole list of reasons starting with "Your Sanity" and continuing on from there ...

Trauma and Tragedy for Animals and Kids

For a baby animal to be parted from the rest of its flock has to be scary and sad. Baby chicks and ducklings are farm animals, not true pets imbued with the patient, docile, willing-to-be-handled dispositions of puppies and kittens. These little creatures are fluffy and cuddly but they are likely to protest too much careless affection by displaying spunk, petulance, and often unpredictable behavior which could frighten or confuse toddlers who may lack empathy and strike back in self-defense or anger. Every Easter, baby animals are injured or even die at the hands of kids who didn't really mean to hurt anybody. There is nothing like a dose of grief and guilt to spoil the holiday for small children.

Adverse Encounters with Other Family Pets

Bringing baby birds into a family which is already the home for cats and dogs is just asking for gruesome tragedy. To put Easter pets in peril like that is unfair both to them and other household pets who may be their natural enemies.

It's No Fun If Somebody Gets Sick.

Gifts of baby birds pack the threat of salmonella infection, especially for kids who are too young to understand or observe necessary sanitary precautions such as washing hands after handling the birds. Toddlers playing with baby chicks or ducklings and then putting their hands in their mouths is a sure-fire recipe for disaster.

Baby Animals Grow Up.

Long, long ago it came to pass that I spent the Easter season at my Powers relatives. In a moment of wild abandon, Aunt Lorna drove us to a local hatchery and let my cousin and I each select two baby chicks for our very own. What a thrilling experience and it worked out well for us but I was 11 and Tom was 13 so we were old enough to understand the situation, and the proper feeding and care of the birds who lived in a packing box on the desk in the Family Room. Raptly, we would watch the fluffy, tweeting chicks as they wandered around in their box for all the world like interspace travelers wondering what planet they were on. It was a thrill that I will never forget and when it came time for my visit to end, the chicks had survived everything -- including a precarious existence just out of reach of the frenzied, thwarted enthusiasm of Spot, the dog.

In the months that followed, the chicks matured into fine adult birds which strutted around as though they owned the place and had adopted the humans at a hatchery. One of them grew up to be a rooster with a mean streak, who loved waiting in cackling ambush for mail carriers or visiting neighbors. Aunt Lorna and Uncle Heme were able to find a friendly berth for our erstwhile pets at a local farm but modern suburbanites might not be so lucky today because -- come to think of it -- it's been years since I've seen a real live farmer.