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My Chickens Are Going To Kill Themselves
I’m on constant suicide watch
We’ve had chickens for seven full days. I swear they’ve at least doubled in size as their floofy exterior has come to resemble feathers more than fuzz. They’re learning how to roost and settle down to nap like proper birds, though they still occasionally flop over from exhaustion.
Athena has taken to roosting on top of the feeder. The sticks I placed carefully in the bottom of the brooder were apparently not good enough for this queen. Raise your hand if you’re surprised! I tried setting them up off the ground a bit and tried a few different thicknesses of sticks. Nah, the feeder is definitely the best spot.
As the oldest bird, she’s enjoyed reaching these milestones first. She’s such fun to watch. She hasn’t gotten out since her reckless escape from the brooder a few days ago, but I swear she sits on top of the feeder and plots her next breakout each day.
After a busy day of being out and about, I walked down to check on my little birdies this afternoon. A quick headcount revealed that, once again, we were down to five chicks.
What in tarnation!
I quickly found the missing chick, pitifully huddled INSIDE the feeder.
