That's my son with one of our new chicks a few weeks ago. Local farmers, the Zakarisons, sold us some chicks that will become laying hens when they grow up. For us it was a momentous occasion, like birthing a baby, as it took about nine months to get the coop and fence ready (we started in the fall and halted construction during the winter), and their arrival was preceded by the mulling over of names, the gathering of equipment and bedding, lots of reading about care and feeding. The whole thing was very similar to pregnancy, without the sleeplessness and weird food cravings.
Except these babies put themselves to bed at night, eat almost whatever we throw out there for them, and are a little skittish about being held very much. I adore them, and find myself spending time cutting up our kitchen waste into tiny chicken beak sized pieces and then watching to see what they love and what they don’t love. So far the absolute favorites are the pie cherries from our neighbors’ tree, onion skins, and the prostrate knotweed that grows everywhere in our yard. They also love bread, bits of fruit, grass, slugs and bugs, and a shovelful of almost finished compost to scratch through.
Our girls are about half grown, little Nellie, Dorothy, Mabel, Cinnamon, Margaret, and Leonora. Two barred Plymouth Rocks, two Rhode Island reds, one speckled Sussex, and one blue Andalusian. The barred rocks and the blue Andalusian are downright friendly; the others a little more standoffish. But we’re making progress, and there’s nothing I like better than to sit down and have a little chicken time in the evening to relax after a hard day.
Eventually our girls will give us eggs; you’ll read about it here first!
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