On Sunday, May 23rd we trooped down to the Tractor Supply and picked out four baby chicks to replenish our aging flock. We chose two black and white baby Sandos, a little Rhode Island Red, and an even littler golden one with feathered feet.
We brought the girls home and set-up a new chicken nursery in the hot water closet. And I say girls because we were extra discerning. Requesting the ugliest, littlest ones we could see. We’ve learned the hard way that the prettiest babies are boys in Chickenland. The two Sandos came from a galvanized water trough that advertised its contents as pure pullets. Apparently a fancy old-timey french word for girl.
The two Sandos grew quickly and it’s been clear by their bully behavior that it was time for them to grow up and move out. Independence– here you come. Poor Taki Nitro and little Mini Featherfeet were constantly running scared. Then this weekend James comes running and says, “Did you hear that? Are you hearing it? One of the black and white ones is cocka-doodle-doing.” I did not see it, but I’m certainly on high alert for even the smallest sign of one vocalizing misstep.
It’s probably a good thing these two don’t yet have permanent names. Because Bait and Switch may be returning to the Tractor Supply. They have a policy that you have to buy at least four chicks to deter college kids from abandoning poultry around town. And I have a policy that if you advertise pullets and send me home with roosters then you accept returns.
So last night Jacob and I were in charge of the independent chicken relocation project. The boys and the Corcorans are taking Animal Science at College for Kids this week and apparently there hasn’t been one single mention of the first rule of Animal Science: No hesitation! None. You grab that chicken with authority kid.
Jake and I successfully introduce the Sandos into the coop in the evening. Grandma tells us this is how it’s done. All I can remember is the last time we did this and we could see, as the sun set, the chicks jumping around in the coop like a slumber party and the older girls outside looking evicted and terrified.
This time around, the babies ventured outside and one of them proceeded to chase Spaz (Pipsqueak?) around, despite her being about one tenth the size. Suspicious rooster behavior?
Once it was dark we sent Jake and James back out to make sure the little girls went back into the coop, which of course they hadn’t. Suspiciously dumb rooster behavior?
A few minutes later, Jake comes back to his bed and I ask him how they decided to keep the babies in the coop. “We blocked the door with a Biden Harris sign. And a rock.”
I really did not see that coming.