How Time Flies. . . .

My last post was in August, which means I have a lot of catching up to provide. The chickens are CHICKENS and no longer little chicks.  Rose for sure has started laying, and we suspect that either Dorothy or Blanche is laying as well.  My fingers are crossed that it’s Blanche as I’m really hoping for blue or green eggs out of Dorothy, but I think I’m out of luck on that one.  Their personalities have developed in spades.  I’d estimate that Dorothy and Rose both weigh about 6 pounds, Blanche is probably 4 or 5 and Olive is probably only 3 pounds even with all the poo stuck to her feathered feet.

That's Rose with the big red comb and wattle. Dorothy is just in front of her.

Rose – Top of the pecking order, always the first to try anything.  She’s the first to check out what you’re doing, run over in case you have treats, eat said treats, first to lay eggs – she’s our little overachiever.  Rose is the only hen that “squats” for me – telling me I’m the rooster she likes best I suppose.  🙂

Dorothy –   Definitely the second in command, she is the second to try anything.  Gone are the days when she would climb up my arm and sit on my head as she did when she was a chick.  Now she looks at me suspiciously while trying to nab treats out of my hand before Rose can eat them all.  She’ll still let me pet her a bit, but no squatting.  I guess I’m not her type.

 

Blanche is in the back on the left, and Olive is next to her.

Blanche – Third in the order, I’m guessing mainly because of size.  If Rose & Dorothy are BFFS, then so are Blanche and Olive.  Blanche is nobody’s fool – always the last to go back in the coop, and the toughest to wrangle in there if we’re trying to put them away before bedtime.  Blanche won’t eat out of my hand or let me pet her, but comes running over with the other two when she thinks I have treats.

Olive – Oh Olive.  Olive is the blonde of the group.  Whether because she really is an airhead or because she can’t see around her punk rock feathered hairdo we’re not sure.  Olive is the last to do anything – nervously, squeakishly.  She’ll get close, then realize where she is and BUGAWK! and scamper away.  She is also the one that the others all look out for – if she can’t figure out how to get where they are, they’ll go back to her and try to show her by example.  She runs into walls and other obstacles regularly in her blind panic to get away from us.  🙁  So much for silkies being lap chickens!

We're getting nearly one a day!

Look at those gorgeous yolks!

One of my favorite photos; the Costa girls with the eggs they got while they were watching the girls for us.

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One Response to How Time Flies. . . .

  1. Quinn says:

    Bring me an egg!

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