Chickens: Week One
It’s been two whole days since I wrote about my chickens. Two days! Do you know how difficult it is not to just talk chicken all the time? Since they have taken up residence in my laundry room, every trip for a pair of sock, devolves into a fifteen minute (at least) on-your-knees-over-the-brooder-oogling-chicks session. It’s not limited to oogling though. There is fawning, petting, fussing, handling, photographing, and general chicken harassment at every opportunity.
The chickens are here to stay. They’ve got their own blog category. It’s official.
My newb chicken thoughts, not even a week in go something like this. Every sentence here could be ended with the words ‘so far’. Feel free to add it as a fun game.
Not So Bad. Other than general man-handling (chick-handling?), these babies are pretty low maintenance. There’s a warm box in my laundry room that peeps. That’s mostly it. I could probably get away with checking them a couple times a day, but what fun would that be? A water change and food once a day, adding or fluffing some bedding. That’s about it. So far. (See how that works?)
Chicken TV. They have this regular eat, drink, sleep, poop cycle, on a 30 minute loop. It’s a closed circuit channel, but endlessly entertaining nonetheless. They are basic little creatures. I realized pretty quickly that meeting their needs was going to be easy. Temperature hasn’t been exactly right, more in the 90-91 degrees as opposed to the 95 recommended. I haven’t stressed about it, because the girls are plenty warm. Not huddling, moving about their pen just fine. They’d let me know.
Poop. Honestly, there’s not as much as I thought there would be. I seem to have over estimated the poo factor, which is an absolute first. That’s lucky. No smell. I’ve added shavings here and there. Mostly I’ve just mixed what is already there to keep it fresh. It’s actually less trouble than a litter box.
Not Fans. It pains me to admit it. These chicks aren’t exactly in love with me. As smitten as I am with them, when I show up they close ranks and give me the stink eye.
I’m not going to lie. It hurts my feelings a little that my love is unrequited. I’ll persevere. We’ve still had our moments.
Dogs. Like the poop, not as bad as I thought it would be. Dogs visit chickens. Chickens look at dogs. A big non-event. We won’t be having snuggling sessions anytime soon. This is strictly a chaperoned affair. Frothing and at the mouth and lunging toward chicken nuggets has been notably absent however.
Incoming. I know next week will bring increasingly less cute baby chickens. They get bigger fast. I need to get a wire lid on their brooder, figure out when they switch to different food formula, finish the damn coop, and keep up my
torment PR Campaign. We’ve only just begun. I’ll try not to subject you to a weekly chicken blow by blow. I’m not promise anything though. Be thankful you aren’t my coworkers. Coworkers who are all to happy to volunteer for eggs that don’t exist yet. Seriously people, get your own chickens!
That’s about it. So far. There’s been a whole lot of pestering on my part. Eat, drink, sleep, poop, and PANIC! on theirs. Successful relationships have been build on less.