Chicks and Giggles: Chicken Ranchin'

Tater getting up close and personal

Here we are, just chicken ranchin’ on our mini-ranch. These chickens are pretty funny and high maintenance. The, what you might call, “honeymoon period,” is wearing off. I want them out of my garage. Yesterday.

The 7 little birds are no longer little and I keep calling them “baby chicks” when they really are adolescent chickens. They outgrew their little tub and had to be moved into Taylor’s little blue swimming pool with chicken wire around it. I made this executive decision when one night I was sitting in the living room and could hear a distressed chirp of a chicken. I poke my head out into the garage to find one had “flown the coop” and was sitting outside the small tub, calling to its friends, “save me.” (I’m not sure if those were its exact words, but it sure sounded like it.) I scooped it up, calmed it down and decided they were moving to a type of chicken half-way out the next day. Hence the kiddie pool, which they actually love. I put a rock in there and every once in a while you’ll catch one up there looking around, then looking down giving its chicken roommates the look of “yeah, look at me!”

Chicken Halfway House-Halfway between the storage tub and the chicken coop!

Some things I have observed about the chickens are that they are not very bright. I saw one actually back its chicken bootie up to its food trough and take a shite. IN its food. Then they fly around scattering sawdust all over the place, including their water dish, which is a nasty mess to clean up. They also love to sneak up on Tater and peck her tail. I’m pretty sure this is not the best idea they have had, but Tater has done a very good job of keeping her mouth shut, except for a few licks. I’m really proud of her, but wouldn’t leave them alone for a minute. I think in reality she feels the need to protect Taylor from them, but what really needs to be happening is she needs to protect the chicks from Taylor. He is their only predator at this moment. We’re working on it.

"Instincts tell me this is a very large worm..."

On sunny days we have been taking them outside to stretch their wings and just give them some room to explore. Taylor likes to show them how to use the slide. He also finds is so frustrating that they move so dang fast now. A few weeks ago he could scoop them up and hold them while they peeped in his little hands. Now they are running/flying away from him. If he does get his hands on one, they are shrieking chicken S.O.S. while he holds them by the wings and then tries to pull their toes off. Honestly, chicken feet are the sickest feet of all feet in the animal kingdom. I love my chickens, but ick. Even worse when they are flailing in your face as your son tries to kiss them on the head and/or throw them down the slide. Ick.

"You WILL go down the slide!"

They still have some more feathers to grow and then they are outside in their lovely coop. I know I will be like a new mother bringing home her baby, peaking outside and listening to cries. I’m so worried something is going to hurt them, but I have to trust Keith’s chicken coop design and recite the wise words of my Grandma Bunny: “it’s just the way it is on a farm, Babe. Animals die.” Great.