Our surprise chickens are doing well, after a few unnerving encounters with ailments I’d only read about until recently.
Both the baby chickens with sour crop are all better after some mutually traumatizing interventions.
The polka-dot-headed chick with an impacted crop is all better after a bunch of massaging and coconut oil, and the probably-a-crested-polish chick with persistent pasty butt is.. well, less persistent about it.
I’m getting the impression that she may be like our black silky who just perpetually has poopy butt, regardless of how much apple cider vinegar we add to her water. This is an instance in which I would be tickled to be wrong, but I love both of them regardless.
We whipped up a little DIY brooder setup that’s quickly going to be too small for all of them, but taught me several things for the next two or three DIY brooders. Mainly, I don’t need to drill so many holes to attack the chicken wire to the top. But drilling stuff’s fun, so I might do it again anyway, we’ll see.
Basilcally to duplicate this handy-dandy, super-portable and completely-hoseable setup, just cut the lid off a storage bin (following the lines of the bin), drill a few holes to secure chicken wire through, and secure an appropriately-sized piece of chicken wire. It helps to go around and crimp the pokey edges where the chicken wire has been cut, and the time to do that is before you start attaching it to the lid, or you’ll snag your shirtsleeves.
We took the baby chickens out in the garden for the first time, and they loved scratching around and exploring.
We’re building a tiny chicken tractor to fit our ripple-shaped kitchen garden beds, so the chickens can help us weed the pathway. We’ll be building more than one, so this first one may not be the one we make look a bit like a viking ship. I couldn’t tell you why the idea of a chicken-filled viking ship makes me grin but boy howdy, does it ever.
Anyhoo, the baby chickens are doing swimmingly, and overnight (since these pictures were taken a day or so ago) have begun to move into that awkward, feathers-askew teenage chick stage that’s just ridiculously adorable.
I’m tickled that they respind so well to handling, and that we’ll have friendly, pet-able chickens on the farm for years to come, and more eggs to share with people as they reach laying age.
Our adult hens now are friendly enough, but not so much for hanging out in your lap or on your arm anymore.
Except for Wooster, of course, who remains the world’s most awesome rooster.