Though, they are good companions.
|They like to be up high. That's Abe on Willa's head, Alice on the left, and Hazel on the right. We don't let the chicks perch on our heads usually. This was just for the 5 second photo opportunity.|
|Abe Lincoln is in the dinosaur stage. Most of the baby down is gone, and the grown up feathers are coming in. They are not pretty right now. These weeks are akin to human early teen years (minus the acne).|
I've been somewhat obsessed over this one. Rehomed roosters are often found on dinner plates, and not as a backyard pet. My conscious is demanding that we hang on to this one until we know for sure that we can't. Besides, it's a really nice pal.
It's fun to watch their dynamics take shape. Alice does not do well alone. If she can't see the other two, she stops in her tracks, stretches her neck, and emits loud CHEEPs until she's reunited.
When we were all outside, something spooked our little flock, and they all came running - as gracefully as toddlers - towards me. Until they remembered that they still find me a little intimidating. Then they were all "oh... we're cool. We'll just be here, under the daisies."
Week three of chicken farming is in the books. So far, so good.