chicks taking off

They grow up so fast! Just a few days ago, they were in eggs that would have fit neatly into this box. (Now they’re really free-range.) Only six days old, the chicks are already stretching their wings. The brooder has become a runway: the girls take turns racing up and down the box lengthwise, seeing how many of their sisters they can clear in one fast-flapping leap.

Note to potential future chick owners: Don’t give the chicks sphegnum moss as bedding. A couple of books I read mentioned moss as an ideal chick litter, but as soon as I put it in the brooder, the little sillies started eating it. I did some lightning-quick Google research, and one website mentioned that moss can expand twentyfold when wet. (Picture this happening in chicks’ stomachs after a drink. BAD news.) I quickly pulled out the moss, put down some interim paper towels, and raced back to the hardware store (where I’d just purchased the moss) to buy some pine shaving bedding. The reason I didn’t buy the pine bedding in the first place: on the label, it clearly states not to use it in an enclosed living situation. But hoards of other online chick-owners swore by it, so I trusted them — sure enough, the chicks are doing just fine. Ah, I love the American fear of litigation that leads every company to overstate potential hazards…

The only real hazard, so far, with the chicks: they take up a ton of my time. Sure, some of this is necessary — I’ve had to pick poop off a few pasty butts, plus they’re constantly filling their waterer with pine shavings, and they’re always on a mission to drench the brooder that’s supposed to stay clean and dry — but some of it is pure pleasure. If you’ve never chick-watched, a word to the wise: it’s like Desperate Housewives, only cuter. They scratch in the bedding, quibble over kibble, fall asleep haphazardly — on the feeding trough, under the feeding trough, or in adorable little chick-carpets, all the sisters intertwined — and beat their tiny little stumpy wings so hard they almost outsmart Bernoulli and fly.

The funniest thing happened when Emmett and I were playing with them this evening. His cell phone rang. All of the chicks simultaneously jumped up, then went silent. The phone rang again. A second jump, higher this time; then they went immediately into a duck-and-cover drill. Three quarters of them went to one end of the brooder, a quarter went to the other.  Moving as one, they dropped to the ground, packed tightly together, and pretended to be asleep. A few happened to end up on Emmett’s hand; he lifted his hand, and like stubborn little opossums feigning death they refused to move. It was the strangest thing — some evolutionary adaptation, I’m guessing. Perhaps the ring happened to be the same note as a hawk’s cry?

Will post more tomorrow. After a long evening spent picking beans, I’m tired. Off to bed…

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