Coming home to Roost

Back in my Peirce Community College days I discovered a sever disdain for chickens.  Stupid creatures that made a ridiculous amount of noise and filth.  Every evening as I finished up my classes in the AG department I would hear those noisy chickens clucking up a racket.   I decreeded that I could easily end the life of a chicken  and then eat it because I would never have an attachment to a chicken.   But then came the 30acres..... and the idea of farm fresh eggs every morning.  I stubbornly held onto the fact I could Kentucky fry a chicken without remorse.  So I seriously started researching laying chickens and after much deliberation with myself decided on adding chicks to our budding farm.  I asked for a chicken coop for my 34th birthday and then ordered 20 baby chicks from an online website called efowl.  5 Easter Eggers for their beautifully colored eggs and 15 winter strong, friendly and reliable egg layers.  This morning all 20 arrived in a box at our tiny local post office and it's really hard to feel nothing, but the warm and fuzzes for these little peeps.  I'm now calling them my fuzzy babies and checking on them obsessively in their homemade brooder that occupies a corner of my husbands office....which is in our house.  The coop doesn't arrive till next week, but it doesn't matter because those little chicks are quite content for the time being underneath their heat lamp.

Chicks enjoying their first meal after joining the Johnson farm.

(I've been told that this picture looks like the chicks are in a microwave, but rest assured that it's just the heat lamp that gives that impression.)