And well, they’re chickens now.
Minus the eggs.
Festive freeloading chickens.
Annie Yolkly is a goofy thing.
Ruth Bader Chicksburg is quite composed.
Our sweet giant, Audre, seems less like a rooster each day, and is quite the lap chicken.
Hillary Clinthen is a fierce and determined wanderer, as to be expected right now.
And finally, here’s little Dolly Bird, bringing you just a bit of Scandinavian holiday cheer.
At two months: The ladies are absolute giants (even Dolly Bird) and they enjoy spending their days pecking around their run and giving themselves (and each other) dirt baths in the sunshine. Their craftsman coop is thisclosetofinished, so they still come inside, rather reluctantly, to sleep in their giant brooder at night.
And like good Angelenos, they have overcome their extreme fear of kale, and have enthusiastically added lettuce and tomato to their diet too. Soon I’ll turn over ALL the composting to them. Muah!
But mostly, I’m looking forward to kicking them to the coop, reclaiming our study AND all my free-time, which is currently spent trimming/painting/shingling the coop to match the house.
Yes friends, I have become that crazy chicken lady.
And I’m mostly fine with it.
So much (s)ass!
