They'd hatched Wednesday and been packed and shipped right away. Baby chicks don't have to eat or drink right away and they are packed in boxes small enough to ensure that they stay warm during their travels but the sooner they can be gotten out of that shipping box, the better.
All twenty-five seemed healthy and lively. Hoorah!
This is something new for us. We've always had laying hens but, aside from one unpleasant incident involving eleven over-age cockerels, a hot August day, and far too many yellow jacket wasps, we've not butchered any of our chickens.
That's about to change. In an attempt to be better custodians of our food, we are giving this a try. These are our future chicken dinners.
The biddies are a special breed from France. Over there they qualify for the appellation Label Rouge; over here, they're marketed as Freedom Rangers.
(I sincerely hope this is not an Francophobe maneuver like that stupid Freedom Fries thing, back when France declined to follow us into the shaky ground of Iraq.)
The biddies have been decanted into a brooder box in John's workshop until they've grown a bit and added some feathers. Then they'll be shifted to their pasture home below. It will have a tarp over on end and probably some roosts and it will open into a daytime yard surrounded with electric poultry netting. The chicks will get commercial feed but they'll have the advantage of weeds and grass and bugs and worms as their home is shifted about the pasture.
And in ten weeks . . . they'll meet their end. But we hope it will have been ten very good weeks. It will certainly have been better than the life commercial broiler chickens lead..
Elora's got chicks too, and turkey poults as well, over at her place Just Off the One Lane Road