It’s chilly in the mornings. The chicks are around with their shoulders shrugged up. The leghorn twins went back in the box. The cardboard is warmer on the tiny naked feet.
You know what’s really warm on the feet? Mom. Until she starts walking away – whoa!
Ursa Minor surprised me with chicks this morning. She had that I’ve got chicks, ya know face. And then there was all the peeping.Oh! there’s a little leg, and it’s attached to some black feathers! Yay, another black one. Oh, there’s a a whole little butt, already dry and fluffy.
Ursa’s so chill. She’s all confident. This is my second brood, you know. I’m kind of a pro at this. (She is).And there’s a whole chick popped out. I didn’t disturb them much in the cold morning, but in the afternoon she was trying to start their education in the dark cave of the broodery, so – into the chickery with them. There are two black ones, and two “spider” marked – that’s how Brown Silkies look when they hatch. But… I can’t remember if she was on Silkie eggs or full size? Those chicks look pretty big. So they might be crosses. Who knows! It’s all exciting.
Cream Puff slid into the greenhouse with Galahad last night, and I was chasing her around with a rake, which G was surprisingly unconcerned about. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in there, and Galahad knew that he was. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she should stick right next to him to not fear the rake, which she did, like glue. Smart move. I chased them both out, and she ran squawking back to her boyfriend, while Galahad made a lap of the hen tent and glided back in before she’d hardly turned the corner. Very smooth. The keets mostly ignored all of this.
Tonight I comprehended another maneuver of his. I’ve seen it before and thought he was just being fussy: I come to open the door to admit the keet family to the GH (Galahad periscoping, doesn’t miss anything). I step back. G runs up, jumps onto the doorstep looking into the GH. Keets gather. I lean or step forward, ready to shut the door behind them as soon as they all…. but no! He doesn’t jump in. Nope. He pops back out, makes a wide meandering lap, though rather fast and urgently, like he’s frustrated, pauses somewhere (today it was under the hen tent), then rushes out and deliberately charges into the GH. I have been frustrated with this extra phase of bedtime procedures. Just go to bed! It’s the same greenhouse it was last night, just go in!
That’s not it though.
I figured it out tonight. He’s collecting all the keets! They don’t flow everywhere together like a school of fish, like they used to, these days as they mature and get more independent. Some are lingering at the grub box, the feed dishes, the water fount. First he confirms the door is open, and then he does his lap to get their attention. They snap to and fall in. Then he pauses for muster – all present? Then they storm the castle.
He’s the best guinea mom I’ve ever had. He does everything almost completely silently. Amazing. And I hardly see them all day, but they know when mealtime and bedtime is.
Oh, and I shifted the coop drama dynamic in Silkieland. For two nights, I picked up the two little bitches that want to play bouncer at the top of the ramp, and I held them. All the other birds went gratefully and peacefully to bed, while I just stood there, holding two hens. I even walked around and did stuff with one hand, holding them. They were pretty ok with it (it’s warm; birds usually like being held, they just don’t like the transition- being grabbed). Then, dead last, I dropped them into the doorway, and shut the gate. Only problem was the rooster, who was very reluctant to get aboard the ark because he knew these two weren’t in yet. His job, and therefore identity, is to be last in, first out. Tonight I had visitors distract me from interfering, and yet, something had shifted over there! It was quiet and quick, and there were no sentries atop the ramp! We’ll see if the lesson sticks. You be good or I’ll hold you!