Our baby chicks are looking more and more like miniature adults, only awkwardly so. Their heads are still mostly downy fluff balls, but their bodies are sprouting feathers. They are still absolutely adorable.
Our chicken arrangements have not been harmonious since we first attempted to integrate new baby chicks into the flock. First, Fortunata nearly died, so Fortunata ended up in her own penthouse suite. We tried to sneak Fortunata back in with the next round of baby chicks, but that didn’t work. Next we corralled most of the bully chickens into the penthouse suite (redubbed the henitentiary). The bully chicken remaining in the main coop became a tyrant that laid few eggs at this free-reign opportunity, so we ate that bully chicken (so, long Scissor beak). The two bully chickens remained confined to their henitentiary, and the chickens in the main coop partied on. For a hilarious albeit short-lived time, Fortunata was even top chicken.
The baby chickens are coming along nicely, simultaneously endearing and aggravating. Sometimes, I forget how loud they are as they chirp, squawk, and now baby-crow away in the background, but I definitely remembered this week. I worked from home and had to Skype in for an interview with a graduate student for our team. I needed to mute my microphone for the interview and then unmute each time I wanted to ask a question. Who knew baby chickens could be so distracting? Well, at least she knows what kind of supervisor I’ll be: the sort who raises baby chickens.