Thursday, May 17, 2012

chickens, week 3

We've been taking the chicks outside for little adventures on warm days.  Here they are three weeks old.  Most of the time, they like to scratch around in the bare spots of the grass.  They also like to hunt around in the flower beds.  Okay for now, but when they discover how good green leaves taste, I'll have to kick them out.  My reading is telling me that chickens can destroy plants.  A few times, while the other 2 are scratching and eating tiny pebbles (it's okay, they should do that), Hazel will burrow down in the grass and roll a little.  We think she's taking a dust bath.  In the grass.  I will probably never say that chickens are smart.

Though, they are good companions.
The chicken formerly known as Golda, Ida, and Penny.  We're experimenting with calling "it" Abraham Lincoln (get it?  Penny/Abe?).  The more I read, the more I think this animal could crow... or lay an egg at about 20 weeks.  Well, one of those options are right.   We'll see...

 And pretty funny to watch and play with.
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.

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