Look at Z's face in this one.
We ordered 25 (10 Barred Plymouth Rock to lay eggs and 15 Cornish Rock Cross to eat, called broilers). They sent two extra broilers, which is typical, as they expect some in-transit fatalities. The hatchery must have their stats down pretty well, as exactly two appeared dead upon arrival. One really was, and one was like 90% dead. Remember Billy Crystal's insight in Princess Bride: "He's only mostly dead." He was sprawled out with a limp head, limp legs, limp everything, so was originally placed in the garbage sack. But some weak-kneed bleeding heart wretched in and rescued him, and throughout the day, whoever came in to visit the chicks tried getting him to drink water. His name is now Bonus. It isn't clear how long he'll be among us. He has improved a great deal but now toward day's end isn't doing much to help himself, i.e.; he lays in his water dish. Wet chicks are not the same thing as hydrated chicks, little Bonus.
One little gal, one of the first we inspected, had a particularly dirty bum, so we really scrubbed and tugged at the goo to get her clean. Whatever we did, we could not find her bum hole. Finally we did, but it wasn't exactly where we'd been scrubbing. I guess we'd been messing with her little woman parts. Listen, learning to farm has its traumatic moments, both for the humans and the critters.
- more progress on the chicken house -