There is always one in every crowd who can't act natural, and ends up looking at the camera.
Completely unexpectedly, my chickens arrived today. They were supposed to be here on Monday or Tuesday, so Saturday left me in a bit of a tizzy. We had an exciting run down to Fort Collins (they didn't go to the Wellington post office) to pick up the little peepers. In the process, we ended up missing out on a family dinner, but I think everyone understood.
When we got to the post office, we opened up the box and the chicks were so excited/freaked out that they started trying to hop out of the shipping box. Everyone looked OK from the cursory glance, and after another errand, we headed home. This is the box:
I had just found the kind of bedding I wanted today, which was really opportune, as well as getting the length of chain we needed to hang the heat lamp. Here is our setup:
The little box contained Steve, The Sickly Chicken (as dubbed by my cousin Brandon who came with his folks to see our new house/visit the tiny baby chickens). Steve was one of the silkie bantams, and got a little smushed during shipping under his many (44!) fellow chicks. After general shenanigans involving Nerf Swords, and impromptu prayer session/vigil for Steve (as headed by Brandon), sadly, Steve didn't make it. I didn't really think he would, but man, nothing like a 12 year old's perspective to make you look at livestock a little differently.
And now, to shake off the woes of Steve-the-no-longer-with-us, here is a photo of a chick asleep in his food trough:
A new pen wouldn’t hurt either
1 day ago