When we got chickens to celebrate our wedding anniversary, I shared the insanity with you. Then we decided we weren't nearly nutty enough and went back to get two more. Because if we go all crazy suburban chicken farmer, we might as well do it full force -- I'm not a fan of doing things halfway.
So now I've got five chickens in my basement. Cheeto, Woodpecker, Lumpy, Rosie and Posie.
You can see in the last photo that they're bigger and are feathering out now; they will flap their surprisingly large wings and try to fly, even. They're in chicken puberty. Teenaged chickens are crazy ugly, guys... and they're about to hit a growth spurt and get all gangly and awkward. It's a good thing they don't get acne and start slamming doors, because I'd be all, "game over, chickens."
We're making slow progress on the coop, but it's still pretty chilly here (it snowed this week even) and Mike works a full-time job (which seriously cramps my style sometimes). Hopefully this weekend we'll get the framing sorted out.
I've been meaning to ask you guys: should I keep my chicken escapades to myself because I'm going through a weird, out-of-character farmer phase? Or are you interested in an occasional post following the coop building process (it is technically DIY and sort of home-related... do chicken homes count?) and watching the chickens grow?
Have a happy weekend! If you need me I'll be over here in my overalls with a pitchfork, herding farm animals.