Ok. There is Sookie, Sheriff Eric Northman, Wanda Jackson, Susie Q, Lily and Rosie, St. Marie, Henny Penny, and Dolly Parton #1, #2, and #3 (they look alike), and my rooster, The Shiek.
We decided when we bought the farm to slowly add livestock over the years. Year one - chickens. So in March, one goes to Tractor Supply. One buys heat lamps, feeders, and tiny, yipping and pipping chicks. One also buys four baby ducks because their husband says "Please, I'll do anything if you just let me get those ducks." MmmHmm. And so it became the year of the chickens and the ducks.
It's March, keep in mind, and tiny baby birds have to live in your kitchen in totes under heat lamps, not outside yet. Every morning they would hear me come down the stairs, and the excited cheeping and quacking would start. And they grew. Fast.
I'm talkin' full grown ducks in your kitchen with no sign of spring in sight yet. But spring came, and the coop got built. The chicks and ducks made it into the barn, and before you know it, they actually started laying eggs! The first two were like gold. You'd think that we had never seen an egg before.
They give and give, and then randomly the smarty pants chickens start hiding their pretty powder blue eggs, and you get worried because they are "not laying," but really they have made a nest out of a dish towel in a corner of the barn, and outsmarted you again.
They peak in the doors for visits.
They lay gigantic double yolkers.
They are amazing. And so, when you see a beautiful little bird for $15 dollars at the farm down the road, you pack a cat carrier full of hay, and you go get her.
St. Marie was a very welcomed addition to the flock. She is a Golden Sebright bantam, and she is no bigger than a dove, and she is full grown. She lays teeny tiny eggs the size of a quarter. We lost a few and gained a few chickens in the first year (neighbor's dog eating chickens, other neighbors dropping random chickens off in totes) and St. Marie rounded us off to an even dozen chickens, and the four ducks (we'll get to them in a minute). The day I brought her home, I put her down with the others, and the CCIP (Cesarz chicken integration program) began. The others chased her away at first, and she would fly straight up, 40 ft in the air, and sit on the power lines. And I would think, "Good God, I brought home a dove and am going to try and keep her in a coop?". But after a few days, my two head chickens, Sheriff Eric Northman and Sookie (smartest, prettiest, best girls) took the little one under their wings, literally.
Which brings me to last night. Chickens have assigned sleeping spots in their coop. In the beginning, each night we would creep out to the barn at dusk, and the little chicken would be on the fence outside of the barn, shivering and trying to sleep. I would place her into her new "assigned spot" in the coop and cross my fingers. Each morning I would go out, and St. Marie would be sleeping up in the rafters, which is apparently where she wanted to be. So be it. Last night I went out to "tuck the babies in" (lock up the barn) and in true big sister form, the sheriff, my white chicken, was sleeping on top of the coop directly across from St. Marie...just to keep an eye on the baby. They are like a perfect little family, and they are part of our little family.
Ok, just a word on the ducks. I held them as babies. I kissed them an told them how much mommy loved them. I give them a fresh swimming pool every day, and share my cucumber slices with them. And still, they think I am going to kill them every minute of every day. They are my rotten little babies. They rape and pillage the chickens. They run away. They quack. They chase me with their heads down until I turn around and tell them I might eat them. But, they lay beautiful, huge eggs every day and I make amazing custard and ice cream with them. So they can stay. Because we like ice cream.
The Bevy: Hank, Henrietta, Peaches, and Penny.
Which brings me to last night. Chickens have assigned sleeping spots in their coop. In the beginning, each night we would creep out to the barn at dusk, and the little chicken would be on the fence outside of the barn, shivering and trying to sleep. I would place her into her new "assigned spot" in the coop and cross my fingers. Each morning I would go out, and St. Marie would be sleeping up in the rafters, which is apparently where she wanted to be. So be it. Last night I went out to "tuck the babies in" (lock up the barn) and in true big sister form, the sheriff, my white chicken, was sleeping on top of the coop directly across from St. Marie...just to keep an eye on the baby. They are like a perfect little family, and they are part of our little family.
Ok, just a word on the ducks. I held them as babies. I kissed them an told them how much mommy loved them. I give them a fresh swimming pool every day, and share my cucumber slices with them. And still, they think I am going to kill them every minute of every day. They are my rotten little babies. They rape and pillage the chickens. They run away. They quack. They chase me with their heads down until I turn around and tell them I might eat them. But, they lay beautiful, huge eggs every day and I make amazing custard and ice cream with them. So they can stay. Because we like ice cream.
The Bevy: Hank, Henrietta, Peaches, and Penny.
Ducks.....I told you so.
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