Feather-friend updates

I just came in from outside to avoid yet another thunderstorm. I was sitting at the patio table with Beauty asleep in my lap. She is remarkably tame for a chicken, although she has been petted and fawned over so much I'm certain she is a veritable diva in the chicken coop.

Robin is outside now, and has been for a week. Actually, we let the chicks out too. In the heat of last week, we couldn't justify keeping them in their pen no matter how many fans we could fit in there. Everyone seems to be adapting well. Robin flies well now, and is getting better and better at finding his own food. We know this by how much food he asks us for. He's down to one or two teaspoons of cat food a day in his little dish outside. Every morning when we go out, he's there on the scaffolding by the house waiting for us. His chirp is quite distinctive, as I suppose all birds' chirps are. We are just familiar with his. We feed him, fill his little bath (a plastic ice cream container lid) and let him do his morning ablutions.

A few days ago he seemed to have had an altercation with one of the cats, because his eye was sore and he has a bit of blood on his head. He hung around in the porch most of the day, until I brought him into the house. I thought he needed a day or two to recover, and the air conditioning in the house would be more comfortable for him. I left his cage door open, but he just stayed in his cage and slept. The next day he was fine, thankfully. I'm glad that he knows that he can come back to us if he gets hurt or needs our help. It makes me feel better about leaving him out in the big world. And believe me, for a little robin, it's a huge world!

The chicks are something like nine weeks now, almost indistinguishable from the older chickens but for their size. One of the white chicks, obviously a rooster, has been trying to crow. It is the most preciously funny thing. He literally sounds like he is crowing through a kazoo. It's not the effect he is going for, I am sure, but he'll get the hang of it. I think nine weeks may be quite young for a roo to be crowing, so he has lots of time to perfect his technique. As I wrote before, the chicks are now free-range. They wander around the lawn chasing butterflies and eating bugs and just generally exploring. They tend to stick together, and every once in a while a group of them will dash across the lawn in a fluttery panic. It's never easy to tell what sets them off. Personally I think the kittens are having a bit of fun with them. The chicks are quite attached to Marc and I, and when they see me in the morning they all come rushing over to huddle around my legs, cheeping and fluttering and pecking affectionately at my legs. One time they followed me to the car, all 21 of them, and would have piled in if given the least bit of encouragement.

Bruce the rooster has been quite testy with the chicks, and they have learned to run to either Marc or I and hide behind us when he is on a rampage. He is pretty rough with them. At first, Marc encouraged me to let them be, as Bruce was merely establishing his leadership over them. It soon became apparent that he was doing more than that. He was attacking them with no provocation at all, and hurting them. They were terrified, the precious babies. They would squeak and cry and huddle in the corner of their coop to evade him, to no avail. Finally we threw animal wisdom to the wind and began to swoop in to the rescue.

One time, Bruce had Beauty cornered in the coop. When Beauty saw Marc approaching, she scooted out of the coop and ran to him, Bruce in tow. Marc reached down and Beauty jumped into his hands, buried her face in the crook of his folded arm and whimpered. Marc's heart melted. The only thing nicer than being able to care for and protect these wonderful creatures is knowing that they trust us to do so and freely avail themselves of our care.