Our Chicks: Day of Arrival

They're here!

Well folks, one little call from the Post Office at 7:30 this morning, and we became the owners of 26 baby chicks!

- the box they arrived in -

- back home in a horse trough

with a heat lamp and starter sugar water -

It was quite a family and neighborhood event getting these chickens! We haven't all been awake together (we three plus my parents) at that time of morning for.... well, ever. I guess we were two months ago when Zoralee was born. Anyway, Mom was texting photos to people. My grandparents came to visit. Okay, they were coming anyway, but the neighbors came specifically to see the chicks. Jason stopped at the top of the hill to say hey to the kids at the bus stop, and one boy said, "There are 25 chickens in that box?!" I think he was envisioning full grown chickens.

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.

- introducing Bonus to water -

more chickies

- checking all the chicks for pasty butt this evening -

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.

- changing tactics with Bonus -

- more progress on the chicken house -

coffee, fits, posterboard stars, horse hairs, chicks en route

I wonder if the tidbits of coffee I consume concentrate themselves in the milk I pass off to the kid.

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I do mean tidbits - mere sips of Jason's or maybe 1/2 cup of my own once a day. I am not an addict; I could stop sipping. But coffee seems to be a direct manifestation of Jesus' love, and I like to get all of that I can. Last night Zoralee threw fits for a couple hours, and then sat awake chattering up a storm with Jason. I used to think, "Oh great! If she's up late at night, she'll sleep late the next morning." even though that hadn't played true. Come to find out yesterday in an email from babycentral.com that when babies are over-stimulated and don't get to sleep soon after they show signs of needing it, they sleep more fitfully.

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Tonight she threw a good fit, but it wasn't long lasting, thanks to Gripe Water and Papa inserting a few G-forces into her little life. If he spins around with her briefly or makes her swing go pretty fast for about 30 seconds, she calms right down. We were discussing how it's like a computer re-start. Quite handy.

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Zoralee's world was at one point in time our bedroom, Jason's and mine. Now we're guests - here, as my mom said, to feed and entertain her. At first she just had the one wall that her bassinet and dresser were against. It bore a simple decopague art series about the night time. Now, above our bed hangs a star quilt she got from great gpa & gma, and all around the room are stars cut out of posterboard and painted in bright designs. Yes, it's my doing, because I've wanted her little brain to be stimulated. But it may be too much. She smiles at the quilt; it's in a new place but it's a familiar item. The posterboard stars, however, she eyes very suspiciously and sticks her bottom lip out toward.

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Yesterday was Zoralee's 2 month birthday. In celebration, here are a few photos. Can you imagine? More photos of our firstborn child.

- matching hair dos -

- my view of Zoralee in the front Snugli -

- Zoralee, Molly, and me -

Light skates across the frozen meadow,

illuminating on the barbed wire fence

iced-over hairs of unknown origins.

Ooooh! Doesn't that sound like the first line to an eerie story? In this case, I believe the hairs are of those of horses. But I must've walked by this fence 100 times and have never noticed them. Or if I did, it wasn't significant enough to devote to memory.

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In chicken news, they shipped out yesterday and are supposed to be here tomorrow. I have been worried, because they are so suseptible to temperature extremes right now. The hatchery makes special boxes for them to be shipped in, and they include enough to keep each other warm (there are minimums you have to buy for that reason), but all it takes is one postal worker along the way to not shut a door to a room or to accidentally leave them in a truck for too long. We're all set up with the brooder indoors, and Jason is starting to build the coop outside, for which they won't be ready for several weeks.

Here's the start of skids, which the coop'll be atop of.