New Chicks

This year’s project is meat chickens. Before you get all namby-pamby about how can you eat those cute little chickens that you have known personally, let me ask you this: Do you think chicken grows on Styrofoam trays? Watch Food, Inc. and get back to me. I will know that our chickens have spent their brief lives in the sunshine happily foraging grass and bugs in addition to eating their wholesome 21% protein crumble. I don’t know if I’ll have a hard time with it or not. I guess we’ll find out.

Neither Farm and Fleet nor Tractor Supply sells meat chickens, although Farm and Fleet has “dual purpose” birds, which can be used as layers (for about 3 years) or meat (once). We wanted the true meat chickens, eating machines that grow to butchering size in 6 to 8 weeks. We ordered 15 Jumbo Cornish X Rocks broiler chicks from Murray McMurray out in Iowa. We ordered “free run” which means they are not separated by sex, and you get some of each. The roosters aren’t a problem with meat chickens because they are ready to butcher before they are fully mature. We hope. After placing the order, Hilda noticed that we would receive a rare breed chick as a bonus. She was thrilled. I was skeptical. What if it was a rooster? It seemed more than likely, since pullets are in much higher demand.

I was excited that we would get to go to the post office at the crack of dawn to pick up a cheeping box of baby chickens. One hears about it in the farm lore, that magic moment in spring when new little babies come into your life. Hilda got an email yesterday saying that the chicks had been shipped at 4:00 a.m. Sunday and would arrive in Harvard Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday. “What happens if they arrive today?” Hilda asked. “Does anyone work at the post office on Sunday anymore? I thought they stopped that.”

Hilda proactively called the post office a little after 6:00 this morning to be sure they had the right phone number and my cell number as a backup. The woman who answered the phone said, “Hold on a minute. Let me check.”

The truck with our chicks on it had just arrived. I changed out of my chicken-chore pants into more or less clean jeans, and we headed out. We went to the back door as instructed. A sign said to ring the bell, but we could only find a hole where the bell should have been. We banged on the door. Just as someone came to answer it, I saw the bell well above my head to the left of the door.

The box

Inside the box. We guessed the foil pack shown at the right was for heat.

Soon we were in possession of a small box full of holes and emanating cheep, cheep, cheep noises. I held the box while Hilda drove home. Every now and then, I saw a beak or a foot poke out of one of the holes.

We had the box all ready for them. We filled the feeder and the waterer. One by one, we took the chicks out and put their beaks in the water. They get dehydrated on their trip sometimes (although the yolk sac is supposed to get them by for up to three days). Conventional wisdom suggests that they need to be taught how to drink. I’m not so sure. They have many good instincts.

Hilda gives the rare breed its first drink

Our rare breed is an odd looking little fellow. It has kind of a top knot on its head. He/she raced around and around, sometimes running right over his/her larger brothers and sisters. Hilda thought we should name that one. It would have to be something gender neutral. Terry suggested Jackie, for the Olympic track star, Jackie Joyner-Kersee. I hope it’s a girl. If not, I guess it will be for Jackie Robinson.

Jackie and the broilers hanging by the water cooler.

My folks headed off for a doctor’s appointment at 9:15. At 10:30, I checked on the chicks. Hilda had put on both heat lamps and the chicks were as far as they could get from under the lights. Geez! It was 85° today. I guess Hilda wanted to put the “broil” in broiler right off the bat. I unplugged one light. When I came back a little later, it was nap time. All the chicks were lying about under the lamp, just as they should be. I remembered how we obsessed about every little thing last year. Now I know exactly what to look for. Plastered to the sides of the box = too hot; huddled together under the light = too cold. Easy peasy.

A new adventure begins!

Nap time. We take out the paper tomorrow and give them wood chips.