The chicks are flying, and they are getting a little cheeky about it:

This little chickie flew up to the edge of the box, perched there and looked at me as if to say, ‘do you see me? do you see me? did you see me fly up here? huh, did you?’. The other day Mr. Lucy walked into the laundry room and there were chickens on the dryer, chickens on the floor, and a chicken on the chair. The all stood stock still and went dead silent. Then, as if on cue, they all flew back into the box. Like little kids caught in the cookie jar. They’re so funny. Fuzzy still likes to watch TV with me in the evening.

Do you know that taking pictures of these dogs is even harder than taking pictures of chickens?

Do you think they could both look at the camera at the same time? Apparently not.

And because, once upon a time this was a craft blog, I have a few works-in-very-slow-progress to show:

We’ll see what I actually get done this weekend, since I absolutely need to build a roost and nesting boxes for the chicken coop and get them moved out there.

Remember when you were 12 or 13, and all that weird stuff just started happening to your body? Your hair was all funky and your feet were too big and you were just gangly and awkward? That’s what’s going on here, only multiplied by 26 chicks:

Feathers are coming in all over the place, making it look like one big bad hair day in the chicken pen. They are so funny now, and I’m seeing their personalities more and more, although I still can’t tell them all apart.

The Rhode Island Reds are all very sweet and quiet and don’t mind being held.

The Barred Rocks are very curious and busy and bossy. They like to jump on the top of the feeder and waterer and just stand there like they are the smartest chickens in the world. The peck peck peck at my hand when I stick it down in their pen, and they want to be picked up, but then they fuss and flap and peck when I do.

The Buff Orpingtons are sweet and mellow. One has a crazy little feather on her wing that sticks out all funny, so I’ve been calling her Curly. She likes to curl up in my hand for a little snooze.

The Silver Laced Wyandottes are a little skittish, but curious. They’ll work their way over to my hand, and look at it suspiciously, but don’t really peck or try to jump up.

The Araucanas, including Fuzzy (aka Penelope Caramel Fuzzy-face), are bold and inquisitive. They jump into my hands whenever they can, especially Fuzzy. She loves to climb all over me. Last night she kept jumping to perch on the top of my head. This made me a little nervous. Chicken poop in my hair is not something I would really appreciate. I had a hard time getting a picture of her (she’s the one in the middle) this morning, because she kept trying to jump off the chair to come over to me. She was happy just to stand on my foot. Silly girl!

And our little mystery chick (in the bottom left corner) is quite the drama queen. She Does Not Like to be held, and screams and chirps and flaps her wings if we do manage to pick her up. Maybe she just didn’t like Mr. Lucy’s joke about her being the first to get cooked in a pot. I guess she can’t appreciate a little sarcasm. We’re not really planning on eating her.

I was trying to knit last night while watching TV, and this little bugger kept walking on my hands:

Apparently it looked like a good spot for a nap. I don’t really get it, I kept putting her back on my shoulder, where she usually sits, but this is where she wanted to be. Can you even stand all the cuteness? I’m going to miss her when she’s big enough to go outside, but I don’t think I want to risk big chicken poops in the house. Gross. I may be crazy chicken lady, but there are limits.

Saturday I went to the pumpkin patch at Summer’s Past Farms. It was just perfect, but I only took a few pictures, I was too busy soaking up the sun and relaxing.

I didn’t get any pumpkins yet, but I probably will in a week or two. I think next year we’re going to plant our own pumpkin patch. Spring is my favorite time of year, but Fall runs a close second. It’s starting to get chilly and frosty at night up here in the mountains. It makes me want to sit on the porch, early in the morning in my thick fleece bathrobe with a cup of hot chocolate, and watch the sun come up.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to take a good picture of a chicken? It’s just about impossible. I tried setting up a chick photography studio this morning, and this is the best I could do:

The first one is our Free Exotic Chick! I have no idea what breed she is, I’ll have to try some chicken message boards and see if I can find out. She’s a little nervous, and is not fond of being picked up. Unfortunetely for her, she is too darn cute, and must be picked up occasionally. The bottom picture is a Barred Rock chick. We have six of these little girls. They like to peck at my hand and arm, and are really curious about everything.

All the chicks are growing like crazy and tonight I have to rig up a new home for them using two big boxes. I had one box, but it’s not as big as I thought it was, and it’s just not enough room for them. Look at all those wing feathers! They keep trying to escape from the washtub, and a couple of them have actually made it out. Lucky for us, Reggie could sense that all was not right behind the laundry room door earlier today when one escaped, and he kept whining at Mr. Lucy, and then running over to the door. Finally Mr. Lucy was able to interpret the very anxious corgi-speak, and sure enough, when he opened the door there was a little chick running around free.

I have to confess to being a very bad chicken mother. I have a favorite chick:

She’s an Araucana, and she has a little teddy bear face. We keep calling her fuzzy face. Whenever I lower my hand into their tub she steps right into it and doesn’t mind at all when I pick her up. She’s happy to sit on my shoulder and peck at my hair, or just curl up in my hand and sleep. She likes to walk up and down my arm, and is just generally curious about everything that goes on around her. Isn’t she cute? I’m going to have to come up with a better name than fuzzy face though. Any suggestions?

I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m becoming. I stayed home from work yesterday to make sure the chicks got all settled in and were eating and drinking like they should. This morning they still looked good. I’m starting to see some personalities developing. Like this little chickie (ok, it may not be the exact same one every time, but it’s definitely just the Araucanas), who looks up at me every time I peer over the edge of the washtub:

Look at those fuzzy cheeks! The Araucanas all seem to have them, but none of the other breeds do.

Watching them all is better than television, and I spent most of yesterday sitting on the floor next to them doing just that. Naptime is fun. Some of them cuddle up together while others just sort of sink down wherever they happen to be. More than once did I watch a chick with it’s beak in the waterer slowly collapse at the knees with her little head sliding down the side of the watering platform. It’s so quiet when they all manage to get to sleep at the same time:

I lined the bottom of their washtub with newspaper, and the corners of the paper stick up a little from underneath the wood shavings. This provides them with no end of entertainment. They like to peck at it and grab at it and step on it so that it folds down.

Here is a view of their whole domain:

I’ve got a big box waiting in the wings, because I think the washtub will be a little too small by next week. They’ve emptied their feeder twice already, I think I better go get a giant bag of chick feed this weekend! I think I might have the best and smartest chicks in the whole world!

Yeah, I am becoming crazy chicken lady.