This is a 7 1/2 week old Black Star.

7 week old Black Star

This photo, with her doing a straight-on stare, is not a fluke. This is her personality. She’s bold, inquisitive and friendly. She hogs the camera. This Black Star will be going to live at the nursing home. I think she’ll end up in a lot of family photo albums.

Yesterday a friend and her five year-old daughter stopped by. I asked if they would like to see the chicks. We stood by the pen, watching the birds. The mom and I were busy chatting when the little girl tugged on her mom’s pants and whispered, “where are the chicks?”

She was right. They certainly no longer look like chicks and they don’t have to be coddled like babies either. They’ve shed their down and have grown in hard outer feathers. They know to stand in a patch of sun on the compost pile to stay warm on a chilly morning.

They are big enough to eat out of the Old Girl’s feeder and sleep on the roosts.

They’ve already outgrown the brooder, which is falling down around them.

Yesterday morning, when I unplugged the heat lamp, It felt like a rite of passage. There’s a thick layer of manure-bedding-feather dust on everything. I can’t wait to move them out for good and clean up the coop. I’ll be doing that this weekend.

This transformation from chick to sturdy teenager happened in less than two months. Today the chicks are seven weeks old. Tomorrow, a dozen of the chicks will be going to a new home. Mr. Grumpy has yet to get a reprieve, but I heard about someone in town who just lost a rooster and needs a new one. I’m hoping it will be this Andalusian.

The five chicks selected for the nursing home will stay here for another week and a half. They’re the most naturally friendly of the lot, and I’ll be handling them frequently from now until May 29 so that they are well-mannered and calm for all of the people who are eager to interact with them at the nursing home. More about that in future posts!

Over the last four years I’ve been doing a storytime program, with a chicken, at schools, libraries and other venues. Although all of my hens are nice girls (well, let’s not count Siouxsie) not all are suitable for a school visit. Not only must the chicken that I bring with me be a good ambassador for chickendom, but she also has to be amendable to sitting on my lap and letting dozens of children pet her. Betsy was one of my best school visit chickens, ever. She was personable, chatty, small (so not intimidating to preschoolers who are small themselves) and never minded little hands stroking her. But, Betsy is old and fragile. She’s retired.

Jasper is one of my friendliest hens, and she doesn’t mind leaving the flock and going for a ride in the car. However, many of the children that I visit have never seen a chicken in real life before. Her visage can be a tad scary. I did bring her on a visit, thinking that her happy personality would make everyone love her. However, it also turns out that when in a classroom she clucks so loudly and constantly that she was a distraction! Jasper stays home.

Pearl is placid and gentle, but those feet! I’ve met some squeamish teachers who wouldn’t be happy about dirty feathered feet in their classrooms (never do the kids worry about such things.)

Likewise, Opal, the Delaware, although as calm as a hen can be, shows dirt on her white feathers. The Speckled Sussex, Etheldred, Florence (seen here) and Agatha, are all wonderfully out-going and friendly, but they tend to pace in the travel crate, so I don’t take them either.

Siouxsie is simply too weird. It would take up half of the program just to explain that, yes, this is a chicken.

One of my hens does meet my strict criteria for selecting a school visit hen: Amber.

She is beautiful and calm. Although she is a Buff Orpington, she never goes broody, so is always in a good mood. As soon as she gets into the crate in the car she settles down for the ride. She waits quietly in the hallway before class.

Today she met one hundred kindergartners, who all took turns petting her gently while she sat patiently on my lap. I don’t have a photo of this because schools have policies about publishing pictures of children (and rightly so.) But, believe me when I tell you that there were one hundred smiling faces because of this good hen.

(If you are an educator and are interested in my program, you can read more here.)

Chicks transform from puff balls into adult hens in mere months. It’s as if a movie is being played in fast-action mode.

This is a Buff Orpington at one week of age, which is the quintessence of what people think that a chick should be. This stage doesn’t last more than a moment.

Buff Orpington Chick 1 week old

Blink. Feathers coming in.

Buff Orpington 17 days old

Blink. Down gone.

Buffy Orpington 5 weeks old

Blink. Feathers flapping. Dust baths and foraging outside.

Buff Orpington almost 7 weeks

Blink. Combs on heads and large feet digging up the dirt. At 20 weeks, she’s laying eggs.

Buff Orpington at point of lay

Blink. The hen is two.

Buff Orpington 2 years old

And then time slows. Years go by. The hen is seven. She’s not as glossy. She’s not laying. She’s old.

Buff Orpington 7 years old

Time is like that, it telescopes in and out depending on what is in front of you. I have chicks and old hens in the same picture. It’s a bit disconcerting. But when you see me sitting amongst the new birds and the Old Girls, it might look like I’m trying to make sense of it all. I’m not. I’m just there. Rather like the animals around me.

Steve saw a flash of color by the Little Pond. It is our first Baltimore Oriole of the season. The males do not get this plumage until their second year. I wonder if he’s been here before.

I went to the market and bought an orange for this orange bird. Orioles eat caterpillars, but also fruit and relish orange halves hung up in suet feeders. I’m hoping to keep him around.