Sure, a chicken is adorable when it is only a few days old.
What is to be afraid of?
But those cute little chicks grow. At four weeks, they are no longer cute.
This is the age when you will last see me or my kids pick up a chicken. And then it is only because we need to move them to their permanent home.
At that point, our previously negotiated terms of agreement kick in. (Yes, I do talk to the chickens as they grow.) I promise to:
1. Supplement their diet with treats from the garden.
2. Give them a nice big yard to scratch around in.
4. Leave them alone when they are sitting on a clutch. (This one is really for me. There is not a chance in this world that I will put my hand under a chicken to mark or collect her eggs.) I don't have a photo of a hen in the nest, as I leave them alone when they are sitting on a clutch.
In return, the chickens promise to:
1. Lay eggs. Not in the yard. Not under a tree. Not in a boat. Not with a goat. Not on a train, but they should in the rain.
Ok, that's pretty much all they promise to do. I would prefer that they not fly anywhere near my head, but they are tough negotiators. I couldn't get them to agree to it.
One addendum has been made to this contract. It has to do with the roosters.
So, the chickens keep one eye on me
and I will keep one eye on them. And we'll all live happily ever after.
Have a lovely, egg-filled day!