The latest fun encounter with chickens? Digging for worms, tossing them in the coop, and squealing with delight when they practically fight over them.
Added bonus, the youngest farmer is not squeamish of bugs, creepy crawlies, or other tiny critters.
In a fit of Sun-Induced-Euphoria and Fleeting-Warmth– a powerful combination during a Minnesota Spring, I herded the chickens back outside. Chicken Farmer #3 thought it was a great day to paint. I agreed. As the chickens wandered around the garden searching for bugs, we primed the roofs and sides.
All was well until Chicken Farmer #3 needed help in the bathroom. Fearing an encounter with a hawk, I ushered the girls back into their coop and went inside. Little did I know the primer was dripping through the roof boards onto the chickens and into their water. Everyone needed a bath.
The chickens were good sports during their sponge baths. I’m hoping the paint I couldn’t wash off will wear off soon…
3 weeks old, a set on Flickr.
The soft fuzzy down is giving way to splotchy patches of feathers. They look awful — think frat boy on a Sunday morning with bed head.
Three Kids. Three Chicks. All Different.