We went to Pittsboro Feed to pick out some chicks. The woman in the store wondered out loud if I was here "to get some birds" or just take pictures of the kids with the chicks?
Avery had a question of her own. She poked the little stiff birdie in the corner of the cage and asked, "It's dead?" The same lady assured Avery it was "just sleeping". No, I countered, that is a dead chicken. She was sorry we had to see that.
Dead chickens are no new thing to our girlies though. We've lost three since we started raising hens. Two never came back after galavanting out in the wild night during their teenage months. Late on, one of the New Hampshire Reds experienced a "mysterious" death that we believe to be caused by an unnamed (here) child who went to check for eggs and accidentally slammed the egg door on her head while she was laying. We think she was killed on impact. This was very sad and shocking. We didn't speak of it much to the rascals except that the chicken had died and Dad buried it in the yard somewheres.
The girls wanted the fluffy yellow ones, but we went with the black Barred Rock pullets with fluffy yellow bums. For some variety. Plus they grow up to be so pretty.
Dr. Gooch has dubbed them "little fetchers". So endearing. They are thriving down in the basement under a heat lamp. They grow quickly. I will take a picture each week to show their progress. You can already see little mature feathers cropping out from the wings.
I'm crossing two fingers that these four will fall into the pecking order easily with our Reds. Gloria will show them how its done. I'm crossing my other two that they'll all four turn out to be hens.