Monday, October 22, 2012

Eating like a Bird

Never tell anyone that they eat like a bird.  I know from having a parrot for over a decade and now starting my second round of chickens that this really means you throw your food every where and poop in your water, also, the quantity of food is staggering, if only because half to three quarters of it gets tossed about and wasted.  Our new chicks have been with us for five days now, the box they came in seems inconceivably small ("The Princess Bride" always pops into my head when I say something like that).  The girls are all named:  Austrolorp is Kiwi (so we missed by one island)-she has an elegant look; the Silver Laced Wyandotte is Amelia since she is already attempting to fly; the Buff Orpington, mellow and sweet, is Sunshine, Sunny for short; then there are the ducks Olive is the big bossy one, Lily is the less assertive female and Sebastian is the drake.  It appears that the Golden Laced Wyandotte is the one chick that didn't survive the trip.  Eight broilers filled out the rest of the order, after studying images of the hatchery's stock, I have concluded that they are Barred rock cockerels.  Time will tell.

So we ordered seven babies, ended up with six keepers and eight extras that we need to house at least temporarily.  They are growing like gangbusters, so they will end up out in the coop sooner than planned, with their heat lamps, of course. Time to go cut some lumber, the run is not finished.







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