I barely had time to register the change when the U.S.Mail delivered 44 baby chicks.
I had their first home all ready. A re-purposed leaky kiddie pool, with a layer of clean shavings, a food container and some clean, fresh water. Oh, and a heat lamp dangling overhead to keep things cozy. The babies come in a ventilated card board box. A box that "cheaps!"
It never gets old, opening that corrugated lid to see all those tiny chicks, snugged close and looking rather forlorn. Each one is lifted out, then held gently while it's beak is dipped in water. They drink instantly and deeply. Then they toddle off to explore their vastly more expansive new home. They find the food in no time. They spend the next hours alternating between eating,drinking, and sleeping under the light. Soon their crops (muscular pouches that are part of a chickens digestive system) are protruding at the front of their necks, full of food and water. After days of travel they are finally satiated and warm. They relax, stretched out like little dead things on the fresh, clean, bedding. However, they don't rest for long, soon they are up and back to the buffet, eating and eating and eating some more. There is a lot of pooping, too, but we won't dwell on that.
General productivity slows when the chicks arrive. I make frequent excuses to go out and just look at them. Ziva is as enchanted as I am. She trembles as she stares at them... no doubt trying to decide if they are something she should dispatch or protect. After a few visits she switches firmly into "protect" mode.
New life at FairWinds. Life? It's good.
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