I talked myself into getting chicks this week. I know they are something else I will have to take care of, but since my flock is slowly diminishing, I decided it was time to add a few so the egg supply will continue next year. I had certain kinds I wanted to get, but when I got to Rural King I saw that they didn’t have the ones I wanted so I chose two new kinds. I got three Blue Barred Rocks and three Buff Orpingtons that are not buff colored, but will be black when they are grown. I looked them up and they look like they will be big, fluffy birds and good layers. The Buff Orpingtons I have now are yellow and fluffy and good layers.
So then I had to name them, of course. My last six were named after ladies in my Sunday School class and this bunch are named after more ladies in my church and one is the name of another friend. They will be Miss Wilma, Miss Shawna, Miss Nancy, Miss Erika, Miss Lori, and Miss Mary. Now I have to decide who is who.
Before I introduce you to my new birds I have to tell you how much fun it is to have chickens. After you’ve had them for a while, they get to know you and mine meet me at the gate every day and I have one that’s a real talker and will talk her head off until I get them some chicken scratch. She seems to be the spokes chicken of the bunch. She also is demanding. She will jump up and peck the bowl with the scratch in it or grab hold of my coat sleeve in order to get to the scratch. I believe she is hooked on scratch. It’s like crack for chickens. Which is why they only get a little of it every day. Chickens can be as friendly as you want them to be, but you have to work at it because they usually are, well, chicken. I don’t pick up the chicks too much because I don’t think it’s good for them, but you do have to handle the chickens a bit to get them use to you and to not run from you. I find that once I’ve caught a chicken and held her and stroked her feathers for a little bit, when I put her down she seems negligent in wanting to run away from me. I think they like being petted even though they fight it at first.
Having chickens means you have to get out of the house and take care of them which is good during this quarantine time. It’s nice to get out in the fresh air and walk to the chicken yard and see my girls all waiting for me. I like watching them as they scratch and peck around. Free range chickens have to be the happiest creatures alive. They only live for that next bug, piece of bread(which they love also) or handful of scratch. They haven’t a care in the world unless a predator, like a hawk, comes around. They are on a time clock with the sun, out at dawn and in by dusk. Anyone who thinks chickens are hard to care for aren’t doing it right or have never had chickens. Other than cats, they are the easiest pet of them all. They just need feed and water, don’t have to be walked or played with and will supply you with all the eggs you need. Mine have never had any health issues except for one lame one I had who lived a happy life despite her handicap. Sadly, I think a hawk got her or the other hens had a pecking party, I will never know for sure. And yes, chickens can be vicious to other chickens especially if one has something that makes it weak in the eyes of the others. I’ve never had that problem before to my knowledge.
So, anyway, here’s my new babies. Snug in their dog crate coop until they are big enough to go in with the other big girls.
I guess I’ll never get over how cute baby chicks are. My daddy raised chickens on the farm and every Spring, we’d drive to the post office and pick up two boxes full of fifty chicks each and carry them home in the car listening to their peeps all the way. I loved getting chicks day. We’d take them out to the brooder house, a little building specifically for keeping baby chicks, where there was a big heat lamp in the center of the ceiling. We’d let the yellow chicks out and they’d all rush under the lamp in one big clump. Daddy would fill their water jars and their feeders and then leave them to settle down. I would go out to the brooder house several times a day just to look at all those baby chicks. Sometimes I was naughty and would try to scare them and laugh when they’d all run in the one big clump to the other side of the room. My daddy would not have been happy if he knew I did that. Baby chicks can trample each other if there are enough of them. But they grew and grew and one day sprouted feathers and then were allowed outside with the older chickens and there were no more baby chicks until the next Spring.
This is a Blue Barred Rock. At least that’s what the sign read on the trough the chicks were in. It doesn’t look blue to me right now, but maybe it will change.
They’ve got little fluffy white bottoms and white chests.
The lighter ones are the Buff Orpingtons, but again I’m not sure what these will look like or whether they will turn darker. Sometimes it’s a mystery what you are getting from Rural King.
So now I begin the adventure of raising new chickens again. They will be in this crate for a couple of months at least until they are large enough to make it with the big ladies.
Molly sits outdoor of the cabin where we are keeping the chicks and whines while I’m in there wondering what I’m doing and not including her.
Belle could not care less.
Have to show you what one of my sons sent to me for Mother’s Day.
Good with a nice cup of coffee.
He’s a good son. I’ll keep him.
Here’s to baby chicks. Everyone should have some, sometime. Bye.