Morning chicken routine

Good morning my chickens! All photos from today.

Subject to change at the whim of said chickens and the lessening morning light....

Amid books and quilts and laundry, etc, are the chickens. These chickens were my husband's idea, to which I acquiesced after how many chicken videos, lol. Feeding them in the morning is my job, which blends easily for how early I get up, yet the mornings aren't as bright as previously. Consequently the chickens don't get their feeder in the coop until it's light enough for me to head outside and deliver it.

Yet they're not the wee babes of earlier in summer, HAH! They're quite, um, large. Eleven weeks old yesterday, they prance around the run like they've always had possession of it. They strut around the coop as if forever calling it home. They race to the wall above the roost in the evenings, jockeying for position along the boards my husband placed there so we'd not have to rescue another one of them the way we did Owl Chicken, FACEPALM. Yet that's a tale for another post. Today I'm yammering about what happens once a new day begins....

Everyone feasting on chick crumble. Nesting boxes to the left, covered for at least a few (or several, we'll how they go) more weeks.

Currently there's no pecking order, forcing a chicken or three onto the lower rungs. At eleven weeks old, all fit at the highest level which they can reach, that escape the predators instinct alive and well. For the last week or so, all of them crowd up there at bedtime, then in the mornings, they all have to figure out how to return to the floor in order to get breakfast. Watching them do that has been entertainment aplenty, because despite how grandly they march about, they are indeed chickens at heart in flying down.

Now having said that, I am immensely proud of Owl and Camilla, always the first two leaping from the rest. Today a Barnevelder was right on their heels, followed by Cami (short for Little Camilla) and another Barnevelder. That left three on the wall, one of which was Welsummer, who for the last few days has claimed her own manner of departure; she gamely hops onto the first level of the roost, then squats as though she's heading straight for the floor. Instead she plops down another rung, then scouts out the best spot to jump to the last rung. Today she immediately hopped onto the floor, as if realizing she didn't need to be so observant. Two Barnevelders remained, one flying down as soon as Welsummer reached the floor, leaving the last chicken pacing, trying to ascertain what to do.

Chickens in the run! My husband gave them the frisbee yesterday, filled at the time with rainwater. They also liked pecking the water off the rake, goombahs!

Quickly it decided breakfast mattered more than dithering, for she swooped down, joining her sisters. Which is a far cry from yesterday, assuming it's always the same chicken as the last one; one of the Barnevelders wandered for a couple of minutes before going down, while a few days ago it took one of those chickens FIVE MINUTES to get herself down for breakfast! I know this because I filmed them, and after the first minute only one remained and I kept filming and then I was committed to the task, dorky chickens! Back and forth and squatting, then standing, then more pacing while mildly chirping as the rest pecked through the chick crumble, peck peck peck! Finally that apprehensive hen-in-the-making made her way off what they have fashioned as the Top of the Roost, enabling me to stop filming and get on with MY LIFE.

Further down in the run, as they followed my crooning, lol. Sweet, if not goofy, chicken gals.

Ahem.... Which merely means I walk back to the house, take off the sweats and hoodie I wear over my PJ's, wash my hands, then refill my teacup, lol. After that I started handsewing the Lucy Boston quilt while my husband woke leisurely. After our breakfast, which he finished before me, he let out the chicks into the run; they SPRINTED out, he called to me as I joined them. I crooned my usual sing-song chatter, which goes, "Hey chickens, good morning chickens. Chick-o-linas, chick-a-listas, henny-penny's, etc, etc, etc...." He smiled and said they perked up at the sound of my voice, my chicken voice might I add, which is more high-pitched than my usual speaking voice. They've been hearing that chirpy tone for nearly eleven weeks now, at first from the brooder, which I'm sure they don't recall in any manner, and now from their coop and run.

And so begins another day in the life of a writing, quilting chicken keeper. How did this happen, and what's all this about an Owl Chicken rescue? Stay tuned for further chicken tales....