Oh, Rapture!

One of Bee's biggest dreams has come true: we are now the owners of 6 baby chickens.  In case you're that into it -- and you know you are -- we have three Buff Orpthingtons and three Rhode Island Reds.  We chose these breeds because we wanted slightly larger birds who are good egg layers.  Yes, our primary goal is to get delicious, farm-fresh eggs, so chickens beware: those who don't produce get fried.  Just kidding.  Or not.


Six chickens are a bit much.  I really just wanted 4: one per family member.  However, we heard how fragile these little chicks are, and we assumed a few would drop off.  Therefore, we each get to name one, and the last couple shall be known as 'Expendable One' and 'Expendable Two'.  Since we've had them for three weeks without managing to kill any, I'm banking on the hawks or raccoons in the field behind our house to pick off a couple.  Hopefully, the chickens' larger poundage will help deter this.

I'm all into raising chickens now, which is a little frustrating, actually, as this gives Bee permission to leave much of the decisions up to me.  Grrr: he was the one who wanted them in the first place.  And while they may not be the most high-maintenance pets in the world, they do require some work.  So I'm busy cleaning out their water five times a day, changing their shavings, and monitoring their heat.    Plus they kind of smell.  And not a good chicken smell: for instance a summer afternoon, Southern-style, barbecue potluck chicken smell.  Oh, no: more like a wet-shavings, musty-feathers, bird shit smell.

We are attempting to build a chicken coop in our yard . . . 100 feet from the tree in which the raccoons live.  I don't know; are we asking for trouble?