Move In Day

A perfect Easter Sunday has never before needed to include “move-in Day” for baby chicks, but now that we’ve done it once, we’re gonna have to make it a yearly thing.  Maybe every other year, cuz that makes 25 chickens in just 5 years.  That’s WAY over the city limits limit.  A limiting factor, you might say.  I stood around and scratched my head most of Saturday afternoon on the design, and then went out bright and early Sunday morning to finish putting the wire on the frame and putting the roofing boards up.  I wasn’t supposed to get sweaty so I could be nice and fresh for church, but I got sawdust all over me.

Let me tell you, when Cassidy brought the tub o’ chicks out into the fresh afternoon air, they were all like, “what the…”  We had waited until after Easter dinner – authentic Puerto Rican food thanks to Ang and her Mom, along with some grilled T-Bones and Tilapia.  We skipped chicken for this meal, even though we explained to the baby chicks that ‘sometimes bad things happen to good chickens, and that we would NEVER do anything like that to them’.  Now we just gotta keep our promise.

So, anyway, the big move in.  It was kinda like that one show, with The Reveal, except for the weepy new homeowners ( I held it together).  We tipped the washtub on its side slowly so the chicks could either hop out or slide out.  They DID love the hay, the few weeds left, the wood to scratch and peck at, and the fresh air.  They also loved the dog on the OTHER side of the wire, and, later, thanked us in their non-verbal way for turning the heat lamp back on overnight.  The threat of thunderstorms never materialized so they survived the first night with great elan.  We are proud of our little chickies – and love their positive outlook on all that new stuff.

OK – names.

Steve is a Rhode Island Red and has two darker stripes of fluff down his back, right at the edge of his wings.  He is a she, even though we call him Steve.  We will get him counseling later.

Juevo is a Barred Rock.  The chubbier of the two, and she has the most-developed tail feathers of the group.  They always are talking about it among themselves in the restroom. (they all go at the same time)

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian is a RIR, and Jacob put a “J” on her forehead with a sharpie.  That is the only way to tell the other two RIR’s apart.

Angie decided on Barcelona for the remaining Barred Rock.  It was a close vote, but in the end, there were more FB and text messages in support of that fine city of Espana.

Lastly, I named mine Cholla.  This is not like “choiya”, which is the cactus of the Southwest, but, rather, the feminine of “Choh low”, which CAN mean ugly hispanic urban gangster, but in this case means ‘little chick with sass and attitude’.

The sermon Sunday included a section on trying not to worry.  Good advice for new parents of outdoor babies.

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