I wake up early, go down and check on the chicks. I watch them, change the height of the lamp, change the water (which is cluttered with wood shavings, because guess what -- the little monsters are starting to scratch the "soil"), add food. And I watch.
Upstairs again -- wanting that last hour of sleep, I mutter to a stirring Ed: you know we're going to need a bigger coop.
Fully awake now, we toss the pros and cons, back and forth. It is nearly a transcript of our discussion surrounding the dining room table: Ed asks -- can't we make do with what's there? Don't rush to buy the latest, best model.
Still, as I list the cons of making do -- we'd be crowding them (they like sleeping side by side!), there aren't enough nesting boxes (they can share!), the winter, when they stay there longer, may get on their nerves (we probably wont have all six around by next winter!), etc. -- Ed is starting to waver.
Unfortunately, he tells me, you're making some good points. Can we just wait and see?
The wait and see approach is not one I embrace in the best of circumstances. In this case, I point out that if the weather is nice, they may be going out in less than two months. And it takes time to find, order and build a hen house.
In the meantime, the innocent chicks just do their thing: eat, drink, poop and sleep. But when they startle, they jump up high! These girls will be flying in no time!
For now, quiet reigns.
And little Cupcake, the one too in love with eating, finds a perfect spot to rest...
We eat breakfast in their company, meaning in the sun room.
And then Ed has work meetings and I have groceries to get and the little cheeps are left to fend and the big girls walk the farmette land and look for places where the soil is moist and rich with the best that life has to offer.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is with us of course and yes, she loves her visits with Cupcake, Pepper and Tomato. No handling yet. We're all getting used to each other.
The three babes watch her as she cavorts around their small home.
Happy chickens, happy girl. All's right with the world!
(This calls for a story!)
As Snowdrop launches into a tale that involves the purchase of macarons, I hear words such as "expensive" floating around. Time to give her a wallet with (toy) money and a credit card. I tell her she can now buy the expensive macaron. I finish off with a strong statement about the need to have money in the bank, earned with hard work before flying loose with the credit card, but I think that part was lost on her.
Evening. Over a steaming bowl of red lentils, Ed tells me -- I've thought of a solution to our coop problem: I'll build an addition to the existing structure!
For nearly every problem there is a modest solution. One acceptable to both of us. I write this sitting at the simple yet beautiful table added to our kitchen just a few weeks back.
Upstairs again -- wanting that last hour of sleep, I mutter to a stirring Ed: you know we're going to need a bigger coop.
Fully awake now, we toss the pros and cons, back and forth. It is nearly a transcript of our discussion surrounding the dining room table: Ed asks -- can't we make do with what's there? Don't rush to buy the latest, best model.
Still, as I list the cons of making do -- we'd be crowding them (they like sleeping side by side!), there aren't enough nesting boxes (they can share!), the winter, when they stay there longer, may get on their nerves (we probably wont have all six around by next winter!), etc. -- Ed is starting to waver.
Unfortunately, he tells me, you're making some good points. Can we just wait and see?
The wait and see approach is not one I embrace in the best of circumstances. In this case, I point out that if the weather is nice, they may be going out in less than two months. And it takes time to find, order and build a hen house.
In the meantime, the innocent chicks just do their thing: eat, drink, poop and sleep. But when they startle, they jump up high! These girls will be flying in no time!
For now, quiet reigns.
And little Cupcake, the one too in love with eating, finds a perfect spot to rest...
We eat breakfast in their company, meaning in the sun room.
And then Ed has work meetings and I have groceries to get and the little cheeps are left to fend and the big girls walk the farmette land and look for places where the soil is moist and rich with the best that life has to offer.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is with us of course and yes, she loves her visits with Cupcake, Pepper and Tomato. No handling yet. We're all getting used to each other.
The three babes watch her as she cavorts around their small home.
Happy chickens, happy girl. All's right with the world!
(This calls for a story!)
As Snowdrop launches into a tale that involves the purchase of macarons, I hear words such as "expensive" floating around. Time to give her a wallet with (toy) money and a credit card. I tell her she can now buy the expensive macaron. I finish off with a strong statement about the need to have money in the bank, earned with hard work before flying loose with the credit card, but I think that part was lost on her.
Evening. Over a steaming bowl of red lentils, Ed tells me -- I've thought of a solution to our coop problem: I'll build an addition to the existing structure!
For nearly every problem there is a modest solution. One acceptable to both of us. I write this sitting at the simple yet beautiful table added to our kitchen just a few weeks back.
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