(Mental note, post more than once a week) 

Today marks the beginning of Week 2 of being a chicken mama and I think it's getting a little easier in many ways.  I haven't spilled water all over the place trying to clean the water jug in about a week.  However, I'm up to filling the feeder 3 times a day.  I think it's time for a bigger one.  I only had to change the bedding in the brooder twice that first week.  Now it's pretty much every couple of days and my compost bin is loving it.

The kids are doing more than eating and pooping though, they're growing like crazy!  Feathers are really starting to come in on the Orpies, so we're in what I call the "teenage phase".  They still look a little like cute baby chicks, but you can start to see a little of the chickens they're going to become.  Every time one of them stretches out a foot and the opposite wing, I tell her how pretty her wings are and what a big girl she is.  The Silkies are still poofballs with what look like legwarmers made by Uggs. 

We hit a dubious milestone yesterday - one of the Orpies got out of the brooder while we were gone.  I got a frantic phone call at work from my oldest, Logan.  "Mom, one of the babies got out!"  Kids, if you're calling a parent at work with a chicken emergency, please clearly define the problem before Mama has a coronary.  She got out of the brooder, not out of the breezeway and she wasn't being stalked by the cats.  He got her back in the brooder and she's just fine.  "Mom, what are we gonna do?"  Umm, I guess we look carefully before we walk in the breezeway and we put a rush order on coop building!

For the longest time, I was worred that my little flock didn't like me.  I tried to cuddle them, skritch them, love 'em up and nothing seemed to work.  In fact, I was pretty sure Tweetie hated me.  Ok, granted I was probably scaring them during Pasty Butt Patrol but it beats the alternative.  I thought of it like when I brushed the kids' teeth when they were tiny - you'll hate me now but thank me later.  But in the last few days, 3 of the Orpies have decided they adore me.  One, who I think I'll name Honey, is a sweetie.  She'll hop right onto my hand and snuggle in.  If anybody else tries to get on my hand when Honey is there, she'll flap her wing at 'em.  I think the secret was finding out where chickens like to be skritched.  Unlike dogs and cats, they don't like skritches on top but boy, you hit under their wings or on their chests and they melt.  Tweetie has decided she's Tyler's chicken, which is fine with me.  I just want lovey babies, I don't care who they love best (although considering I'm the one who feeds, waters, cleans out bedding...).