Kids & Critters

So... I've been meaning to post, meaning to upload pics, meaning to do a whole lotta stuff that I haven't gotten around to doing. And now I offer you just one word in defense of my slacking - kids.

When I'm not running them from birthday parties to saddle club and all points in between, we're at home where they are hanging on me 24/7. Scarlet has been my little, very curious shadow. The isolated life of a hermit suddenly has an incredible amount of appeal...

Anyhoo, lots of things have been happening. The garden is starting to crank up, the "baby" chickens are growing like weeds at almost 8 weeks old, I've been knitting like a fool and I'm trying to physically and mentally prepare myself for the onslaught commencement of canning season.

Finally some new photos of the "babies" -

Scout, the oldest, then and now.




Scarlet, holding Snowflake, who we suspect might actually be Mr. Jeffries


Livy holding the soon-to-be renamed, Wilbur, our only Americauna chick, who we believe is a pullet.


Rocky, the original wiggler, who will also probably be renamed shortly, as he appears to be a she.


Can you believe how much these little stinkers have grown in 8 weeks? They are voracious little beasts! They finally graduated from the brooder to the coop after a very scary near-fire in the garage, involving the heat lamp and the pine pellet bedding. It wasn't good, but luckily everyone came out of it unscathed, if a little traumatized.

We still have not introduced/mixed the babies with the "big girls", as our 1-year-old hens are now known, since the babies are bantams and roughly the size of a fat pigeon, and the big girls weigh in the neighborhood of 5 to 8 pounds each. I'm curious about how much the babies weigh these days, but not curious enough to lose an eye trying to wrangle one onto the scale.

Bill says that it is time to start finding homes for some of the babies, seeing as this whole buying-a-farm business has gone on much longer than anticipated, and our backyard can only take so much assault in the form of scratching and pooping. I know he's right but I just don't want to let any of them go! I want to build my laying flock from (in as much as it will be possible) chickens that I have hatched and hand-raised myself. You know, that whole "provenance" thing. Oh, the trials and tribulations of being the Crazy Chicken Lady.