It goes without saying that our chicks started off pretty cute. Then they got little tail-feathers and that was still cute, but it went downhill from there. As they grew, they got a little bit brattier and much, much stinkier.  Apparently this is typical of adolescent chickens as well as humans. We also sent two of the Barred Rocks (Black-and-White) to a new home, since we only wanted four and were pleasantly surprised that all six survived their first few weeks in the box.

In recent days, they moved out of their box in the laundry room and currently reside in a stylish navy blue coop in our backyard. They won’t be laying eggs until August, so we’ve entered a less-than-exciting phase of chicken tending.

I have always been very opposed to the idea of “Furbabies,” where people consider their animals as important as kids and call themselves “Mommy” and “Daddy” to the pets. However, we don’t have any children or even regular pets running around, and the chicks are definitely getting an extra dose of our doting while we teach them to do things their moms would have taught them on a farm. The solution has been to narrowly escape the “furbaby” category by claiming a special title for ourselves as caregivers. The idea came from Megamind, one of our favorite movies. (If you haven’t seen it, don’t judge the whole movie based on this one-minute clip. The full-length feature is quite a hoot!)

Last night, after he successfully impelled the chickens to use their ramp independently, Aaron gave a perfect impersonation of this scene, saying, “I am the Chicken’s Space Dad and my chicken-training abilities are unfathomable…. they can’t be fathomed… they are without fathom.” Since I’m less involved with their activities, I get to be the “Space Step Mom.” What can I say? I’ve had some work done recently.