Day 14 - Teenage chickens

Well I was admonished by Harrison that I was too erratic in my blog writing. "It's like a journal. You're suppose to write in it everyday" he urged, rolling his eyes in not a little disgust.
As I see it, there are two problems with that. One is that I am quite sure that my life with chickens really isn't THAT interesting to anyone but me. Second is that I let the technological side of things slow me down. So, those two disclaimers made, I will write often, not worrying if I'm boring anyone and I will dispense with the notion that I have to include a photo every single time I post. I believe I can always edit my post so it may be that I simply add a photo when I can psyche myself up to deal with that.

Today's topic : Teenage chickens

I knew that my sweet little chicks had crossed the line this morning when I went in to feed them and found they had eaten almost everything in their feeders. They are pigs now. Starving, maniacal pigs. When I bent down to pick up feeder number one, I had to practically dig it out of the bedding. It was buried in a sea of wood chips. Yes, they are little pigs. Messy little pig chicks that have a total disregard for keeping their brooder in any order at all. They poop in the feeders, in the water, and one poor guy who had obviously been in the wrong place at the wrong time had poop on his wing. The straw that broke the mama's back was that when I lovingly laid down the bountiful feeder buffet and one chicken with an attitude went for my arm instead of the feeder. Bad chick. Bad, bad chick. He had to go to the end of the line...

I have to confess to a bit of chick mother guilt. It's only fair that I own up. Last night when I was giving the little fellas some new water, I apparently sat one of the gallon waterers right smack down on a chick and I didn't even realize it. I kept hearing this incessant "peep, peep, peep" and for the life of me I couldn't figure out where the sound was coming from. That's a downfall of imperfect hearing. A few minutes later Harrison came in and immediately said "The water, the water! You sat the water on a chick!" Yep. Guilty. I picked it up and that poor little guy came running out. I don't know how I didn't kill him. I guess the wood chip bedding was soft enough to give a little. I don't know if we're out of the woods on him or not though. Today I thought I saw a chick that was walking too close to the ground. Ooh. I hate it when I do dumb mothering stuff.