The call came around 7:30 this morning: The chicks
were at the post office and off I went to collect them. As soon as I entered the lobby, I could hear the peeping. The business part of the P.O. was still closed, so I hollered through a mail slot that I had come for the chicks. The postmistress turned them over to me with a sigh of relief -- that incessant peeping can wear you right down and what with the general edginess attributed to postal workers anyway . . .
It was a group order: I was expecting 8 Ameruacana and 4 Gold Laced Wyandottes; my friend and her daughter had requested Brown Leghorns, Rhode Island Reds, Black Australians, more Ameruacanas, and a neighbor of theirs had asked for 25 straight run Cornish Games -- 50 chicks in all. And the hatchery had assured my friend, who placed the order, that the chicks would be labeled -- which they were -- sort of.
were at the post office and off I went to collect them. As soon as I entered the lobby, I could hear the peeping. The business part of the P.O. was still closed, so I hollered through a mail slot that I had come for the chicks. The postmistress turned them over to me with a sigh of relief -- that incessant peeping can wear you right down and what with the general edginess attributed to postal workers anyway . . .
It was a group order: I was expecting 8 Ameruacana and 4 Gold Laced Wyandottes; my friend and her daughter had requested Brown Leghorns, Rhode Island Reds, Black Australians, more Ameruacanas, and a neighbor of theirs had asked for 25 straight run Cornish Games -- 50 chicks in all. And the hatchery had assured my friend, who placed the order, that the chicks would be labeled -- which they were -- sort of.
When I got the box back to my husband's workshop where he had set up a nice brooder with lamps to keep the babies warm, and feeders and a waterer, we were faced with a dilemma: the other folks couldn't come for their chicks till tomorrow and we didn't have a good way of keeping them separate, even if we'd been sure which chick was which. There were chicks in the various sections of the box and the sections were labeled -- but there weren't 25 Cornish Games where they should be; they seemed to have oozed into the other sections.
I was pretty sure which were the Rhode Island Reds and the Black Australians but after that . . . and the babies were peeping and ready to be Out of the Box. So . . . we turned them out. All together. A mighty mix of chicks. Tomorrow we'll have a great chick round up and sort them out as best we can and send them on where they belong. I'll keep what I think are 8 Ameruacanas and what I can only guess might be 4 Gold Laced Wyandottes. There may be swapping later on, as the biddies develop and reveal their breeds. But for today, there's just a whole lot of peeping going on.
6 comments:
Hi Vicki, what a great post! It brings back memories of the days biddies would arrive at the farm when I was a child. When I was in high school we advanced from a coop to a huge chicken house and my grandfather, who by then lived with us, sold the eggs as a business. A whole lot of peeping going on when the biddies arrived then!
I loved the biddie days. But not the neck-wringing days, nor the singeing of the pinfeathers.
Love the names of those biddies you have. Good luck with the sorting out!
Hi, Kay, After one memorable day many years ago when I butchered 11 young roosters and dealt with their carcasses while yellow jackets crawled over my hands (not biting, just licking up chicken blood), only to find, on cooking these birds that their meat was so tough as to be inedible unless minced -- after, as I say, that experience, I try to get only pullets and just keep them till they die of an honorable old age or (as mostly happens)till something gets them -- usually a raccoon.
I did not know you can get chicks through the mail. You learn something new every day.
We don't have a lot of land where we live, but my dream (one of them) is to get the bit behind our creek cleared and level some of it out. Then, I would like to set up a chicken coop and get just a few hens. For a short time as a kid, we had some chickens. I even named one Gertrude. (She was the only one who would let me pick her up and hold her.) Nope, don't foresee any neck-wringing going on here. :)
Google 'hatchery' and find the chicken of your dreams. Most hatcheries have a minimum order - but in the spring there are usually some feed and farm supply stores that will have chicks for sale.
Chickens are great fun -- and the eggs really are better than storebought.
I love baby chicks, so soft and fuzzy, busy one minute and sacked out the next. Then they start growing up and getting more and more stinky. :-) I really enjoyed seeing all those little puffballs though. A really nice assortment. I have 12 old hens and a rooster (not counting the hen with a limp and the rooster with no feet...), that are living out their days here. Most of them are 5 years or older, but the hens are still giving 4-5 eggs a day through the summer heat. The ameracuanas seem to age well and still be productive. Thats what most of mine are, with a few 'dominickers' and mixed breeds.
Tammy
The Americanas (that's what I have though I often forget and call them Aruacanas) have been terrific -- my hens are around five years old and still lay almost daily. Plus there's an old Speckled Sussex that produces now and then. But I figured it was time for younger hens to help out.
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