We got our chicks a week ago today.
A week ago today, they were cute little fuzzballs with round heads and toothpick legs stuck on. Today, they’re proto-chickens, replete with necks and thighs, distinctly less cute. It’s remarkable to us that they are discernibly different every day. Almost as we watch, their wings get longer, their legs get sturdier, and their fuzz gives way to feathers. Maybe whoever’s been supplying A-Rod comes around while we’re out.
In the animal world, the inevitable by-product of development is poop, and our chickens have been producing quantities commensurate with a growth rate that would give kudzu a run for its money. Luckily, chicken poop is surprisingly inoffensive. Within minutes of our giving them a fresh layer of paper towels, they’ve peppered it with little chicken turds, but the only smell is the smell of the feed. Even in the 90-degree heat of the brooder, nothing smells (sorry!) foul.