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Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Chicken Soup

No, we're not eating anyone.  There's just enough chicken news of varying sorts that it's a soup!

Soup is still hovering over six eggs, the first of which should hatch next Wednesday.  Ooh!  The kids are excited, as James and I are.  It would be nice to know we can hatch our own chicks from year to year instead of purchasing from Atwoods or online in minimum orders of 15.

She's a scary being, let me tell you.  When she first went broody, we decided to slip a few extra eggs under her, so she's have good chances of hatching out at least one or two.  The first time or two I added an egg, she tried to peck me and the egg.  The egg didn't break, and she realized I wasn't trying to touch her.  I definitely wore gloves, however.


When she hops down from her box to drink or dig food, every feather on her body is fluffed out.  She looks big!

To add to our chicken news, the turkens have finally started to lay regularly again.  I will confess to being disappointed in this chickens and their lack of laying.

As they arrived this morning!
Finally, in a fit of madness, we ordered 15 chicks to add to our egg laying flock.  I have a craving for blue eggs (they're so pretty), so we ordered 8 "easter eggers."  We also ordered 7 Plymouth Rock Barred chicks, as they are cold hardy and supposed to be regular layers, even in winter.

Our lone yellow chick is already named Peep.
They were supposed to arrive mid April, but somewhere in the ordering process my request for a mid April delivery date was lost.  So they arrived today.  It's awfully cold, but they aren't too huddled together, so they must be okay.


We'll use paper towels for bedding for a few days, until I know they are all eating.  They all took to drinking readily, which makes me happy.  It's amazing how much more I know this year than I did with our first chicks (and how much I KNOW I don't know.  Aak!).


Chicks make me happy.  I don't know why, entirely, as they take a lot of work with bedding management, manure balls on their toes, and the occasional pasty butt, but they are darling.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

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