SIP Day 71, wearing a grey tank and brown linen crops; 76 degrees outside; writing from the back porch at golden hour
You know how people always say that when your children are small, you should just enjoy every minute of it and not stress too much?
That has pretty much been my day. I woke up at 6:30, ate a hurried breakfast and went to the Feed Store to pick up the chicks that I ordered six weeks ago. Four, because that is the limit according to my city’s backyard chicken ordinances.
Of course that has meant that for six weeks I have been reading chicken-raising advice on the internet, and every bit of that was swirling around in my head as I walked out of the Feed Store with a cardboard box full of four very loud day-old peeping fluffballs.
So far I have learned that much of that chick-rearing advice was overkill, but gradually throughout the day I have learned a lot and so have the wee ones. They learned how to eat chicken scratch, how to drink from the waterer, and how to form adorable chickie pyramids and naptime acrobatics. Mostly I have just watched and admired their awkward little bodies navigate their new environment.
Two personalities have already emerged in the bunch. One of them is the first to explore everything. She was my first escapee from the carrying-home box and when I hold her she prefers to climb up my arm than snuggle in my hands. I like her spunk and her sense of adventure. The other emergent personality is the smalled chick of the bunch who is a champion napper. She can fall asleep anytime and anywhere. Scarily, she has fallen asleep with her head in the water already (eek). I think she is likely a bit younger than the rest of the bunch and needs a bit more time to mature.
I haven’t named the girls yet, but my little adventurer just might be Isabella Bird, my favorite Lady Explorer.
What I watched last night: The Biggest Little Farm (a perfect documentary for the day before becoming a chicken tender)
