Chicks!

Robert and James have been keen on pets for the last few months. I have been anti-pet for YEARS! Pretty much ever since I grew up and realized how much work they were. But lately, I don't know, my mindset has been softening somewhat. Is it because my kids are growing up? I have never craved babies. Am I bored? My life is busier and going in more directions than ever before. I suspect this is a phase and may pass, but Robert caught me in a moment of weakness...

He proposed this idea...

"Hey Mom, the next time you buy chicks, what if I buy one and it's my pet?"

Gears started turning in my head. This kid is sharp. He knows his audience.

Of course! It's the perfect solution! As co-owners, we'll share in the labor of caring for the flock. It's something I want. Something he wants. Something James wants, too.

I thought about it a bit.

Then I took James to the zoo and witnessed hours of his animal love and excitement. Suddenly, I remembered how James is the only kid who asks to take the adult chickens out of their pen to play with them. And he really plays with them.

Light bulb!

So, instead of grocery shopping on Monday, Matthew and I hopped over to our local farm store and picked out a half dozen little chicks. I'd like to introduce you to our new little flock and our brilliant team of co-owners:

The flock in their "newborn" pen.

Matthew and Pecky (Australorp)

James and Leopard (Golden-Laced Wyandotte)

Robert and Roscoe (Brahma)

Alice and Hades (Rhode Island Red)

The remaining chicks belong to me, and yes, I have named them. I swore off naming chickens years ago when the untimely deaths of our first flock traumatized poor little Alice. How old was she...early 2012...only 5 years old. Have I really been keeping chickens for 7 years?! Oh my goodness. We've grown a lot since then.

The first day or so, it looked like we would lose one of these chicks, too. She wasn't standing, eating, or drinking. I prepped the kids for either outcome. We didn't name her. They prayed for her. They prayed that she would recover, or, that if she WAS going to die, that it would be quick and she wouldn't suffer long. Within hours, she was up and eating. Over the last couple days, she's become just as perky and chirpy as the rest of the flock. A recovery! And now she is known as Buffy Xena (Buffy the Vampire Slayer for her awesome toughness and Xena the Warrior princess for her unique, warbling chirp/peep that is different from all the other chicks). She's a Golden Buff Orpington.

The final member of the flock is another Golden Wyandotte I've decided to name Little Boo. My guess is that one of the two flighty, nervous, and bossy Golden Wyandottes will end up leading this flock. If it's not James' Leopard, then it will be my Little Boo, who is named after a spunky, bossy, know-it-all chick with a southern accent from the Chicken Squad audio books. We LOVE those books.

A few funny things spoken in our house since:

"Hold on, I've got a leopard on my lap. I can help in a minute."
"Mom! Pecky just tried to fly over hades!"