Last Saturday my little happy hippie house got a bit more crowded than it already is, at least for a few weeks. These three hens-to-be are temporarily shacked up under a warm light in my bathroom. For the chicken inclined, there’s a Buff Orpington, a Plymouth Barred Rock and an Ameraucana. Here they are at 5 days old.
Cheeping and peeping, they run around kicking shavings and bits of newspaper into the air. They fight with each other over copious amounts of chick food and cuddle together for naps. I could watch them all day.
Here’s Frida getting caught up on her reading. She’s quick and flighty and yearns for artistic freedom.
Here’s Guadalupe. She squawks loudly when you pick her up, but within a few seconds of rubbing her head, she’s asleep in the palm of your hand. She’s sweet and mild and just like our blessed holy mother, sometimes weeps for no reason.
I don’t have a solo shot of Rosa. This chick is a rebel. She’s stubborn and rowdy and very smart. There’s no way Rosa’s getting forced to the back of the coop.
Here they are today – 11 days old. Their tailfeathers are coming in nicely, and they’ve been regularly testing out their wings.
There’s nothing like fuzz therapy to make the day better. And omelette dreams.