| I was less than thrilled when my better half called me at work some 4 months ago to tell me she bought 6 chicks -- "The kids LOVE them and they are SOOOO cute and we can have fresh eggs!". The very last thing in the world I wanted was more dumb animals to feed and shelter. In my entire 41 year life, I had never even heard the term Buff Orpington but now there were 6 of the little fuzzballs under a heat lamp in a box in the bathtub. They sure were busy little things, 2 days old, running all over the box and pecking at everything and eating like little monsters. If you held your hand down there, they would hop right up on it, walk up your arm and peck at your freckles. If I stuck my finger in front of one, she would hop up and perch on my finger (just like that was what fingers are for) and didn't seem to want to be anywhere else. The birds are pretty big now. My whole family refers to our flock as "Dad's Chickens". My wife calls the chickens "...the other women in your life." (I seem to be the only one who doesn't mind getting chicken poop on my shoes.) There really is something relaxing about watching these birds walking around being chickens. They crack me up. We live in Alaska so I am frantically building a lighted, insulated coop for them and hope to be done before it starts getting dark out. It's a race with mother nature. They are living in the coop while I work on the outside and the wiring. The coop is in a 12 x 12 foot pen, but I plan on making it 12 x 24 feet soon. The grass in the pen is the greenest, healthiest, shortest grass I have ever seen in Alaska. I'm thinking, "If I fenced the whole yard in, I could sell my lawnmower!" My only regret is my crazy wife didn't bring chicks home years ago. Chet |
| Fuzzballs..By: Chet |