Sunday, June 19, 2011

Chickens, chickens, chickens

All is well with the chickens.  They are growing, healthy, and I expect eggs in another month or so.

The Polish chicken has grown wattles, an attitude, and a crow.  Yes, he's a rooster.  What're the odds.  Well, 50/50, if you want to know.  We always said we wouldn't keep a rooster, so Aidan insists he wants to kill it and eat it.  He just wants to wait a few more months until he's fully grown.  Bridget and Ray want to keep him, thinking the coop is far enough away from the neighbors that the noise won't bother them.  I'm still undecided.  I don't want him terrorizing the girls, or being aggressive towards humans.  We shall see.  He is the most interesting bird in the flock, and it would be a shame to see him go.

The Ameraucanas are growing nicely and have these fluffy grey feathers on their cheeks that make me smile.  Bossy is still very bossy, and we named the other one Mrs. Flores after a favorite teacher at the middle school.  This is the 2nd Mrs. Flores chicken in our neighborhood, and you have to say the name in the high, Spanish-accented voice that the actual Mrs. Flores speaks with.  She seems confused as to why anyone would name their chicken after her.  She should be flattered.

 The Cuckoo Marans are enromous.

Lacey (on the left) is getting her lovely adult feathers from the chest working backwards.  Queenie continues to be a rather scrawney but dominant chicken.  She is one of my favorites.

Like the finches, these birds are better than TV and it's fun to sit and watch them.  Especially at bed time.  They will form a line and head up the ramp to the hen house.  Whoever is at the front of the line gets in first, and then settles down in the doorway, facing out.  The next chicken or two join them, until the doorway is completely blocked, with 4 or 5 chickens still waiting out on the ramp.  Impatient chickens at the back of the line try to walk over the top of the chickens in front of them.  Impatient chickens at the front of the line go into the coop and push out the ones already in there, usually having a disastrous domino effect on those still lined up on the ramp.

Much pushing and shoving continues until all the chickens are eventually in the henhouse, but it's comedy all the way.  Cocktail hour at our house is often spent sitting out at the chicken coop being entertained.

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