|There was a second Cochin, but it died the first day|
Here's Peep at about a month:
|Her ugly duckling/commandant phase|
Here's Peep at about two months:
|Looking more like a real chicken|
Here's Peep now, at about three months:
I guess she's grown. She's mighty cute any way you slice it.
What was once a flock of six has been cut to five. Our beautiful Red began cockadoodledooing one morning about a week ago. Woke the kids at five AM. He was twice the size of the others. Red is now living somewhere in west Tulsa, enjoying life with seven hens about his age. The new dad was so excited to meet other backyard chicken enthusiasts. Bye Red!
|Such a handsome rooster. A real shame we couldn't keep him.|
The other girls are nearly four months old now. I'm told to expect eggs from them in late September or sometime in October. Say hello to Polish (her breed and her name, as in the sausage):
|We think Polish might actually be a pirate - is there such a thing as a chicken pirate?|
|She and Polish came as part of a trio. The rooster found a new home within three days of their arrival.|
|I planted an egg one morning before work and look! Up came a chicken! This one LOVES her dirt baths.|
|Ginger has attitude. And they all peck at my wee Peep. Grr.|
I can't even begin to tell you all how much I'm enjoying having chickens in my backyard. I spend an hour with them nearly every morning, right as the sun is coming up. Even when we were having days (more than a month's worth) of 110+ degree temps, the mornings on the patio, in the shade, were always breezy and somewhat cool. Spending time with the girls lowers my blood pressure and gives my days a calm, happy start.
I mean, what better way to start a morning than with a little Cochin chicken in your lap, right?
|I'm pretty sure Peep loves our mornings together. Especially since I protect her from the other girls while she eats breakfast. They're mean girls when it comes to Peep.|
|I reversed the camera on the phone to catch this shot. Peep is truly captivated by the iPhone's screen.|
The ickiest part of having chickens is the poo. All over the porch. And the dogs like to eat their feed when they go out. Oh, so far the dogs give the ladies a wide berth and vice versa. It's working out well. I just don't let the dogs out on their own when the girls are out and about, which is pretty much dawn to dusk.
Did I tell you about the apple tree? The chicks like to perch there if we don't put them away before dusk. See Mary Ann? I'm afraid I might have blinded her for a moment.
|Chicken in a tree - gah!|
Until I write again ...