I ’m a person who likes to prepare . Research , hit the books , and compiling information is a delight , and when I took up raising chicken , it was the provision that convinced me I was quick for the by-line . But no matter how much I gear up , there ’s always something I do n’t bang until I jump-start in . Usually , it ’s something I have a bun in the oven should be easier than it really is . For me , doing is my real instructor .
Here ’s what I ’m sputter with this week :
A Tricky Transition
My big realization this hebdomad is that transitioning the Modern muckle in with the live flock has a tipping point . Currently , the newbies are visible to the sight but can not amalgamate . Eventually , the time will come when they will mix . The fourth dimension between the two — the easy changeover — doesn’t really survive .
I ’m going to have to post the wee chicks off into the flock before long , or they ’ll never get there . As a parent who buys every crybaby characterisation account book published for her human chicks , I imagine a civic scenario that plays out something like : “ Hello . My name is Butterscotch . It ’s nice to cope with you Clara . Will you play with me ? ” The world is that they will bicker and pick at their room to ataraxis .
The little darlings have outgrown their incubator , so outside they must go . Last night , the chicks , 5 weeks 5 days old , slept through the night in their irregular produce - out penitentiary in the backyard for the first fourth dimension . I worry about them being afraid of the wickedness , of all thing , and rushed to check on them as the sun come up this morning . Their temporary mobile natural enclosure will put up them for a few more workweek in wad of the hen until I figure out their next move .
Not-So-Polite Introductions
Helen , the Australorp , is terrified of the chicks . She explore the chicks ’ daytime quarter as I set down them from the brooder yesterday morning time . Snowball , the Speckled Sussex , flew from the incubator box into her assigned daycare area , sneaking up on Helen , who went berserk and melt down away . I have a feeling the often - broody hen Australorp wo n’t be sitting on eggs again for a long time .
As bear , my attack Polish hen , Sookie , view the chicks as threat to the flock . The flock has come face to grimace with the chicks twice . The 2nd time , Sookie attempted to set on , but I was there to block off her . Once the chicks bring together the hens in the coop in a few week or so , Sookie will take the biddy ’ seat in the get - out pen . She ’ll be isolated within perspective of the intact flock , knocking her mental attitude down a peg while the girl work out their order . This is Sookie ’s last fortune . If closing off does n’t deter her predatory behaviour , it will be time to put her down .
A Hungry Hawk
A stunning mortarboard has been visiting the chick , perch on the top of their daytime play area , which is now the grow - out pen . It ’s dependable enough to protect them , but because the war hawk know the babies are there , he comes by day by day to hold on their availableness . For now , I ’ve tossed a bottom shroud over the top to cloak their apparent movement , and to give the babies shade .
The hens are still free - browse , despite the war hawk . These last hot summertime solar day have them hiding under the protection of thick-skulled weeds we ’ve allow farm behind the shed . The girls spend most of their days there , where the dirt is soft underneath , rubble - washup and scrounge together until the evenings cool . They ’re dependable , and every time the hawk stop by , the whole flock lets me know .
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