For a long time, it has been my dream to own a few hens – like 3 or 4 max. Last week it came true when 25 baby chicks arrived in a box at the post office early one morning. I rushed over like the deranged mother I’ve become and rang the buzzer repeatedly until someone let me in the back door and eventually brought a little box of peeping fluff. True, I only needed four, but I had this idea it would be easy to get rid of extras via Craigslist. So far eight have gone, and today, on Good Friday, another seven will be picked up. That still leaves five that need a home.
Setting up temporary digs in the basement wasn’t hard. An appliance box lined with a plastic garbage bag and covered with shavings is doing nicely. According to the website “MyPetChicken” the temp needed to be an even 95 degrees for the first week. Testing before they arrived proved I needed to adjust the height of the heat lamp to keep from broiling their little tushes at 120 degrees. These girls are unavailable however tempting they look.
I’m mesmerized by their little chicken-y antics. From day two they made clumsy efforts to scratch like big mamas do. When one finds something interesting to peck at – an odd colored shaving, the rings on my fingers – several run to investigate and steal it away if possible. They have tiny primary feathers sprouting from their wings which they preen and flutter. With breakneck runs they launch themselves one half inch above their neighbors landing on heads with no regard for whether one is napping or drinking.
They are a mix of breeds and it is difficult to decide which four to keep. So far I’ve decided on an Ameracauna that will lay the green or blue eggs I’ve always marveled at, a Black Astraulorp, a Barred Rock and a Buff Orpington. A friend identified them for me. I don’t know if I should trust her or not – she has fainting goats and to her surprise two of her does dropped three unexpected babies – one of the mothers had twins. Among the 25 chicks are three unusual brown-egg layers –
I've always liked to suggest that maybe Jesus looked like Danny DeVito– not because he probably did, but because it challenges the equally improbable long, pale, angelic face that has dominated the art of the Western church.
How are your chicks doing?