Picking up cute chicks

Looks like the chick I injured is going to make it.  I’m very happy, and my guilt is diminished a little.  He/she limps, but the limp is improving.  And there’s been no more death, so I hope that I can keep all these alive now, protected from predators and illness and untoward events until they can take care of themselves.

They’re not out of the woods, though.  I went in this morning and one was lying on its side in the “death’s door” posture.  But he had some fight in him, so I held him to the food trough, since the only meds I’ve got are in the food, and they need to keep getting it in them.  I just cupped him in place, and he ate.  And ate and ate and ate, then he stood by himself, fell asleep standing, and was bouncing among the others by the time I had their box cleaned.

I’m getting used to them.  Caring for them takes a whole 10 minutes a day; it’s awesome.  Or course, I spend more time than that hanging out with them, watching them.  They sleep a lot, do everything at once (Hey, eating!  What a great idea!  Hey, drinking, brilliant!), and I still see no fighting or pecking or aggression.  The smallest one is miniature, and regularly walks under the big birds, being only as tall as their legs are long.

They’re perching a little bit today, but never long enough for a picture.

I think both of the Giants are roosters; they stick their necks up at noise or novelty, like roosters are supposed to do instinctually, instead of ducking like hens. Their wings are huge- so developed already.

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