A while back, when I was dreaming aloud of raising chickens, a sweet friend passed along some supplies she no longer needed, included was the brooder for the chickie babies. The donation spent a long time stored in the tea house, where instead of chickens, a little dormouse was happily living. Miss Mousy did not appreciate our interference and left hurriedly with no forwarding address. We cleaned it up, and everything worked, except the thermostat. My handy man husband got that working as well, just before bed last night, but I must say I was nervous after the whole pasty butt episode.
Handy Man always leaves me a sweet note in the morning, so, being brave, I decided to read the note first and prepare myself. Thankfully the note said all the our chickie girls were fine. No surprises.
They peep and all pile together when they hear you coming. I sing softly, usually Amazing Grace, then fill my palm with chick starter crumbles and lay the back of my hand on the floor of the brooder. We have some nosey little peepers, for within minutes I have a handful of fluff, contentedly pecking and scratching.
We ordered seven different breeds, supposedly all female. 3 each of Easter Eggers, Andalusian, Australorp, Buff Orpingtion, Red Star, and Golden Laced and Silver Laced Wyandotte.
The chicks came from My Pet Chicken.
I chose this site because I wanted to try several different types of chickens and you could order only three of each, as opposed to five from most places. Also, they had such great descriptions, and I wanted friendly types of chickens ( no terrifying my sweet poopies) that were also good layers. So far, I am very pleased.
On a less than happy note, my sister Kaye was hospitalized yesterday. She was coughing terribly and congestive heart failure was being discussed. The cardiologist said, "No," to congestive heart failure, but it appears she has an upper respiratory infection. Another sister sat with her at the hospital during dialysis last evening. She said Kaye really had an awful time. Couldn't really understand where she was or what was going on and was very fretful and in a panic. Brain injuries are just perplexing. It is so awful to not be able to do or say anything to make a person feel better. It just breaks our hearts and that's all.
My daughter in law is coming tomorrow, so maybe I'll get some pictures up here. Meanwhile, I must check on the current hysteria surrounding Little April Rose.