Meet my two roosters, Sunshine and Chestnut.

I’ve known Chestnut (an Ameraucana) was male for a long time. I never really doubted because he acts roosterish. He now has longish, pointed tail feathers and a golden mane of neck feathers that he puffs out when he’s showing you how bad he is. I’m seeing some lovely green irridescence in some of his feathers, too. He has a striking appearance, though I don’t know if I’d call him handsome. Perhaps he is still an awkward youngster? He’s … kind of scruffy.

I was pretty sure Sunshine was a boy early on, too, because he started developing a big red wattle and comb early on and the other Buff Prpington chick, Buttercup, did not. You can see them both in the photo below. They look pretty different, don’t they? And yet, I hoped he was a she. But, it’s official as of yesterday: Sushine is definitely a cockerel. I heard and saw him crowing in a kind of teenage-trying-this-cock-a-doodle-dooing-thing-on-for-size way.

So, out of ten chicks we have raised since February 17, we have two roosters. Not great odds, if you ask me. Honestly, we didn’t want roosters at all. And I’m not at all sure what we’ll do with them. My boys say that killing and eating them is out of the question, even though that’s probably Ian’s preference. There is a slight chance that the two will get along even as adults; it does occasionally happen. But more likely, they will begin to compete for the affections of the hens.

With a little break in the weather, we were able to let the chicks out to graze a bit. This was only their second time outside in this pen. The first time we could only get six of the nine of them to come outside. The others were being too chicken.

This is pretty Buttercup (“As you wish!”). Remember how I used to despair that we would never be able to tell Buttercup apart from Sunshine because they looked so similar? Well, look at the top photo. Sunshine has a much taller, redder comb and the beginnings of red wattles. Buttercup’s comb is still yellow. I sense trouble of the cock-a-doodle-doo type brewing.

And this one, Chestnut, isn’t very chestnut-colored anymore. The feathers are coming in black and white. This bird is extremely aggressive (loves to play the Jump on Your Head game and bumps chests with Sunshine), which makes me wonder if this might be a male, too.

I put these blankets atop the pen for two reasons: I don’t want any hawks getting any big ideas about eating my chicks, and also, I don’t want my chicks flying out of the pen. I don’t think it would be very easy to catch them back up again and I don’t know if they have sense enough not to run off.

Whenever I go to the chicks’ pen inside our garage, Lightning flies up to sit on me. Many of the chicks gather around me or jump up on me. Perhaps some imprinting has happened.  Lightning always wants to cuddle.

Firefly is still sequestered in the house. She is doing great and seems recovered, but she’s still much smaller than the other chicks, so we don’t feel she’s ready to be with them yet. I am hoping she will grow, grow, grow. Ultimately size isn’t everything when it comes to a pecking order, as sometimes tiny Bantam hens can be bossy, but it’s often a factor—or so I read.

Here’s another roundup post, which is all I can manage at the moment.

But first …

“Knock, knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Ding-dong!”

“Ding-dong who?”

“Floooooo!”

That’s Asher’s joke du jour, or rather joke of the week. We hear it a lot these days.

It’s raining. The thunderstorm the weather folks predicted is right on schedule. Holy hailstones! We are getting a wee bit sick of the rain, here in Northern California. We’re far more used to dire predictions of drought and onus of water conservation than full rivers, threatened levees, and flooding. Ian’s been running about in his galoshes, tending to pumps vigilantly to keep the water moving from our backyard, where it wants to stay, out and around to the front yard, where it can go on its merry way toward Arcade Creek. The neighbors generously give us all of their runoff, and our drainage—which I swear is like 100 percent better than it used to be—cannot keep up.

Speaking of Arcade Creek, I’m wondering if there’s a place where we can go and visit it—some kind of public land or easement where we can see and appreciate it. You see, all of our neighborhood drains say, “No dumping! Protect Our Creeks … Drains to Arcade Creek.” Asher has memorized this very important message and is keen to point out every such oval placard he sees on every storm drain in the neighborhood. This makes me happy; he’s getting an environmental consciousness at a young age. Don’t you think it would be good if we were to actually find Arcade Creek and explore it a bit? I’m betting Arcade Creek is plenty full right now.

Now, a paragraph ago I mentioned Ian’s galoshes. He’s very practical, you see. His galoshes are all black and he and bought them from Home Depot on one extremely rainy day in January. I’ve decided that I need a pair of galoshes, too—not so much because I slog about in our flooded backyard, fussing with pumps and worrying about our house flooding, but because I am, as you may know by now, a chicken farmer. If you don’t believe me, you can read here on my blog about our chickens, our chicken coop, and the ten baby chicks that we’re raising. Or, you can head on over to The Wonder of Childhood, a new online magazine published by my friend Lisa Boisvert Mackenzie. Lisa is bringing beautiful articles and inspiration on the topics of parenting, education, nourishing, living, and story, with a flourish and all the seasoning of her experience as a Waldorf childcare provider and mother. If you click on “Living,” you’ll see my article, “Raising Chicks,” detailing our chicken farming adventures. Many thanks to Lisa for letting me be a part of her inaugural issue. I’m looking forward to being inspired on a regular basis by The Wonder of Childhood. (Thank you, Lisa, for including me!)

Okay, so back to the topic of galoshes: Dang it, I need my own! Because chicken farmers, like me, need to walk into mucky chicken runs to feed hens, collect eggs, and scatter oh-so-yummy scratch for the girlies. Said chicken run was delightfully dry and clean last July when we built it. But now, almost eight months later, it’s a muddy, poopy mess. I’m really looking forward to things drying out around here! So, galoshes. I have found a colorful pair I want to by for $39.95 and a black and white pair I could live with for $29.95. What do you think I should buy? Wellies style in paisley or black and white, William Morris floral?

Okay, I’m done now. Generally speaking I’m too keen on writing about stuff, even though I admit I really like stuff. I try not to make it my focus in life.

So, on to other things…. Did I mention that it’s raining? Today, Lucas’s third-grade class at Sacramento Waldorf school was supposed to shear the sheep. Unfortunately wet fleece doesn’t shear well or easily, I’m told. I have been asked to take photographs of the third graders shearing the sheep, which is thrilling on so many levels. Although, I have to admit I’m not sorry today’s shearing was canceled because of the weather. Although the sheep probably don’t care much about the rain, and third graders (in my experience) don’t care a lick about getting wet, my camera prefers to stay dry, dry, dry.

And now, it’s dinner time. Bye!

Home-raised eggs have yolks that are huge, bright, and orange. Those are commercial eggs on the left and bottom.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

They’re getting big, aren’t they? These photos were taken last Sunday, or Day 25 of our chick rearing adventure.

We moved the chicks out of the house and set them up in a bigger pen in the garage. It’s raining pretty heavily and I’m a tad worried that they’re cold. They still have the heat lamp for warmth, and they’re feathering out nicely, so we think they’ll be fine out there. They are birds, after all!

Now that they’ve moved, I miss their sweet chirps in my office. Frankly, apart from the dust, it was lovely having them in here while I worked.

This is Dawn, an Ameraucana. Dawn will most likely lay bluish or green eggs when she’s an adult.

This is Buttercup. The other Buff Orpington chick like her, Sunshine, is looking … well, I wonder if Sunshine might be a cockerel. We’ll see …

This Barred Rock, the black one, is very docile compared to the others. In fact, I’d say that now that Firefly is separate from the other chicks, the two Barred Rocks are at the bottom of the pecking order. I’m going to keep my eye on them to make sure they aren’t being mistreated by the others.

Firefly is still with us and is stronger. Saturday she actually flew up and out of her box! I found her on the floor of my office closet.  She did the same thing on Monday morning when I came near. She is walking with a limp and prefers to rest more than walk, but she is able to stand and move about. She’s eating still, so I take that as a good sign. She will stay in the house for a while longer at least. I would like to see her fatten up and grow some more. Reintroducing her to the others may be a difficult prospect.

Our littlest chick, Firefly, hasn’t been well at all this week. She has been so weak and unable to stand since Sunday morning. Every evening for three days I said good night to her, fully expecting to find her dead in the morning (I even cried a bit).

It now seems Firefly may have other plans.

She has been standing a lot more today. When she’s resting, she seems to have her feet under her, as though she has better control of her legs. I thought before it was her left side that was weakest, but now I’m seeing weakness in her right leg, so maybe I was wrong before? She is eating a lot of food, and appears to me to be stronger for it. I’ve seen her stand when I put my hand toward her, but also when I’m not close by. She’s been on her feet rather a lot for a dying bird, I think. I held her for a while today and she perched on my hand and flapped her wings— something she hadn’t been strong enough to do in days. She’s even preening her feathers a little.

The fact that she seems to be improving has me wondering if the other, bigger chicks were keeping her from the food. I hear that chickens will do that sometimes to a little bird, and Firefly is definitely the “runt” of the flock. In fact, while they have grown tremendously, she remains tiny. Perhaps she was just being starved to death, and now that she’s eating she’s gaining back some strength. (If this was the case, I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner!)

I wonder if she might make it. Then I wonder if we’ll end up with a hen that can’t be with the others and that needs lots of extra care. I have to admit, I’m rooting for her.

The other chicks are huge now. They seem nearly three times the size they were when we first brought them home. They look like proper BIRDS now, and act like them too. Pecking, scratching, flying, leaping, perching, jostling to be higher than the others—they do it all now. Their favorite game seems to be Jump on Your Head, in which one chick will literally jump on top of another. That chick in turn will jump on the head of the next chick, and so on. They make quite a racket doing this.

They still sleep in a pile, which is really funny and kind of sweet. And I thought human babies were light sleepers! The chicks take many naps during the day, but often the naps are only five or ten minutes long. And once one chick disturbs the pile, they all wake up and jostle about. I’ve watched the same chicks fall asleep and be awakened over and over again in just a short time.

Buttercup is eyeing me through the wire in this photo. They pay intense attention to me when I come near, which I do fairly often to feed them and check/freshen their water.

Three chicks stand out as the most active, most dominant of all: Chestnut, Sunshine, and Lightning. They are three different breeds and they each have a “sister” of the same breed who is more docile. I’m wondering if any of these three might end up being roosters. I sure hope not.

I’m not sure what happened, but our littlest chick, Firefly, is not doing well. I first noticed this morning when I came in to change the chicks’ water. I easily counted nine chicks. Where was the other one? The chicks were all crowding into one corner and I moved them away from it with my hand. At the bottom of the pile of chicks was Firefly. They had been standing on her. (See her down low in the right back corner? I didn’t yet realize she was being trodden on when I took this photo.)

Her left leg appears to be injured, but I can see no obvious wound. She can’t put any weight on it, and seems to have only enough strength to kind of flop about a little. We have isolated her in a small box with her own food and water. I’ve watched her move about her box, and eat and drink many times today. She is sleeping often. I’m more concerned that she’s getting adequate water than I am about her eating. With other animals, eating is a sign of not yet being finished, but dehydration kills quickly.

She appears to be more comfortable now, but who knows? She is an 18- or 19-day-old chicken. And we are inexperienced at raising chicks. While she has slept today,  she has at times appeared dead, with limbs akimbo and neck splayed out on the litter. (But even healthy chicks sometimes look dead when they’re sleeping.) At least we know that if she is indeed on her way out of this world, she can pass in peace; she won’t be tormented by her flock. Chickens aren’t at all compassionate toward other chickens with weakness or injury.

I wonder what happened to her. I keep trying to figure out how she was hurt. I wish she weren’t Lucas’s favorite. I don’t really expect to find her still living in the morning.

Day 1: There are ten new hearts beating in my home. Welcome, little ones!

Day 2: My goodness they are noisy! They really do say “peep, peep.” They are little balls of fluff. So awesome and adorable! They fall asleep in our hands when we hold them.

Day 3: Our boys got to show their babies to some friends. They are doing great! The peeps sleep often, but wake so easily. They are pecking at each other’s eyes and beaks, but they don’t seem to be causing any harm.

Day 4: Our baby peeps are practicing their chicken behaviors. Today they are scratching and pecking in their litter and they are only about five days old. They also have rapidly growing wing feathers!

Day 4: The little ones nap a lot during the day. But now it’s evening and they are peeping up a storm! Pipe down, baby chickens! It’s sleeping time.

We have come to call this one Chestnut; she is a fuzzy Ameraucana. Eventually, she will lay green or blue eggs.

Day 5: Five days into raising baby chicks, we still have all ten. (Phew!) They are growing so fast and they all have beautiful small wing feathers now! They didn’t have these when we first go them last Thursday, February 17. And for the record, cleaning baby chicken butts ranks right up there among the weirdest things I’ve ever done. It must be done or they can die from “pasting up.” Yeah, it’s just as icky as it sounds.

Day 6: The hot topic of conversation on the Tuesday morning of a week off school is what to name our ten baby chicks. We can finally tell the two from each breed apart, except for the two yellow Buff Orpingtons, whom I think of as “the Twins.” Under consideration are the following names: Chestnut, Dawn. Lightning, Moonlight, Sunshine, Buttercup, Storm, Thunder, Summer, and Firefly. These names would go so nicely with our hens Sunrise, Fireball, Snowdrift, Avalanche, and Midnight, don’t ya think?

Day 6: Wowza! One chick, Dawn (above), was found this evening perched on the top edge of the brooder box! It’s time to rig up that top to keep them inside. A crocheted blanket clipped onto the box with binder clips will do nicely for now.

Lightning, a Light Brahma

Sunshine and Buttercup, the two Buff Orpingtons; we may never be able to tell these two apart!

Day 7: Now I see tail feathers coming in!

Day 9: The chicks are now so active in their plastic tote brooder box that their watering device is constantly getting clogged with the littler they scratch up. I’ve gotten up at 3 a.m. the last two nights to clean it out so they have access to drinking water. The heat lamp is very hot and they drink a lot! Better litter must be purchased.

Day 9: They fly.

Day 11: “Sara, the chicks are now having [unassisted] out-of-box experiences,” Ian reported. Moonlight flew up and out of the box, and then couldn’t figure out where she was or where everybody went. Ian rigged up a chicken wire box top to keep them inside.

Day 12: All of the babies now have fancy epaulets on their shoulders, like feathered generals.

Day 13: My goodness the chicks are active now—and fast! They are also easily about twice their original, just-hatched size. Firefly, a Welsummer, is still littlest. The two Welsummers have stripes down their backs like chipmunks.

Our babies are here! We picked out ten wee chicks at the feed store on Thursday and it was a thrill. We got two chicks each of five different breeds in the hopes that this will help us to know them all as individuals even when they are grown.

Lucas picked them all out. They are sweet little handfuls of fluff.

They are completely “a-DOH-able,” as Asher says. Fuzzy and peepy and sleepy and ever so young! Just two or three days old now. For the next few weeks they will be living in our makeshift “brooder box” in my office, the warmest room in the house. We have learned that they need to be kept warm — really warm. You and I would call it hot. We have had to make adjustments of our plans and setup to accommodate this new info. (I expect to say that a lot during this chick-raising adventure, since this is our first time!) As they grow, they will become more comfortable with slightly lower temps. Nevertheless, we are all enchanted.

More later. I think I’ll go hold one and watch her fall asleep in my hands.