It’s so enjoyable to watch week-old chicks running around and then suddenly, mid-step it seems, fall asleep into little piles of fluff.

The chicks are now 3 1/2 weeks old. They are no longer cuddly poufs. They are spiky, eagle-eyed, and gawky. They still take frequent naps, but I’m not sure that it’s so cute.

The Black Stars look like they’re wearing moth-eaten witches’ costumes.

I must say, though, that I’m jealous of their ability to fall asleep so deeply and wake so rested and ready to go.

This is Topaz. She is broody.

Note the ruffled feathers and that maniacal look in her eye. Perhaps you think that this looks like a normal chicken? Here, compare Topaz to her sister, Beryl. In this photograph, taken last week, Beryl was not broody. Look at her kind, inquisitive and sweet expression.

Beryl lays four eggs a week. Topaz sits in the nesting box, but doesn’t lay. She hoards the other hens’ eggs. Once a day she removes herself from the box in a chattering, huffed up rage. She goes outside. She leaves this.

It is the largest pile of chicken manure you’ll ever see. Or smell. Broody poop is rank. The dogs like to roll in it. I remove it from the lawn before they can. Thankfully, it only happens once a day. The broody hen drops it, then eats and drinks. She might take a dust bath. And then she goes back onto her nest. If only Topaz had gone broody earlier this spring, she’d have had some of the chicks under her. Now, she just has Siouxsie.

Spring is (finally) here.

The Red Buckeye is in bud.

Red Buckeye

Scilla are in bloom in the front woodland.

The reason that there aren’t more of these flowers is obvious.

The first asparagus spear of the season has emerged.

Yesterday I planted the cool season vegetables: lettuce, kale, peas, and carrots. I’m going to buy a packet of radish seeds today.

Chicks are feathering out in the brooder.

Blue Andalusian Chick

The egg basket is full.

Although it’s missing a few eggs. TWO Buff Orpingtons are broody.

(Topaz and Beryl are for sale. $15 for the two. If you have chicks arriving, they’ll take care of them!)

I’ve been asked, “how much do you handle the chicks?” Understandably, when the fluffy adorable little balls arrive, the first thought is, cuddle. I don’t. I handle the chicks only enough to care for them. I don’t enclose them in my hands. I don’t reach down into the pile of chicks and scoop one up. I don’t do this because it scares them. Pick up a chick and you will feel the heart beating fast from fear. Yes, the chicks will eventually get used to the grabbing and holding. But, getting there puts them through a lot of stress. You do not have to handle your chicks in order to have friendly hens when they are full-grown. Soon after the Gems arrived, the older hens, in the little barn, came down with a severe respiratory disease. To keep the chicks safe I practiced biosecurity. I wore a different overshirt in their barn, and changed my shoes between flocks. I didn’t handle the chicks. And yet, today they mill about underfoot, run up to me with speed when I call, and I can take them to schools and nursing homes, with the surety that each one will sit calmly and sweetly on my lap while unfamiliar hands pet them.

In contrast to the good behavior of the Gems was what happened to a group of chicks raised on a farm and used in an educational program. They were handled daily by children. At the end of the season the farmer gave the pullets to myself and a few other backyard chicken keepers that he knew. Instead of being acclimatized to people, they wanted nothing to do with us. Every one of those chickens had behavior problems. Now, it’s likely that if you have a few chicks and are handling them gently (it’s unlikely that every one of those children at the farm did) that your chicks won’t have issues. Still, I don’t pick up my chicks just for fun.

My goal with chicks, with all animals, really, is for them to come to me. To do this, I pay attention to the animals’ reactions and needs. The first thing that I noticed was that the chicks all scurried into corners when I opened the barn door. Of course a door swinging open towards them, and sudden bright light and a big human looming over them, was terrifying. Now, as I approach the coop, I call out, Hello Chickees! Then I open the door. The chicks, instead of turning tail, look up, and if it’s nap time, don’t even bother getting up. I’ve tried opening the door without announcing my presence, thinking that perhaps they’re simply used to it by now, but without my hello, they scramble in fear.

Once inside the coop, I do not scoop down and pick up a chick. If I did, this would happen, a mass of worried chicks.

When you have 26 chicks in a brooder, the chicks move in waves of motion and sleeping. They are a flock that reacts as a whole. Remove one, and all panic.

But, this doesn’t mean that I ignore the chicks or cautiously avoid them. I have a stool in the Little Barn, next to the brooder. I sit. I talk quietly to the chicks. In this photo you can see how comfortable the chicks are with me in their presence. They’re going about their business. They’re not huddled into a terrified mass.

I’m eyed with calm, friendly curiosity.

Once the chicks are moved into the coop, there will be room for me to sit amongst them. I have no doubt that some will want to sit in my lap.

I’m not saying here that you shouldn’t handle your chicks. Your situation might be different than mine. If you have only three chicks in a small brooder, and you visit them all day long, then the dynamic is different. If you have a pen that you sit in with your chicks, that changes the interaction. Some chicks might like being picked up. If a chick stands still and lets you scoop her up, then all is fine. Chicks will let you know loud and clear when they are stressed. You might be happy holding the fluffy ones, but are they happy with you? All you have to do to know the answer is to not be blinded by their cuteness, but to pay attention. They’ll tell you the right thing to do.

UPDATE: I was totally wrong about this chick. Although the guide says that Cuckoo Marans have white bellies and a white spot on their heads, that description doesn’t apply to this belly and this head. Blue Andalusians can be a soft whitish grey (as are two of the three that I got), but they can also be slate grey, and as chicks have white bellies. This chick is a Blue Andalusian. The Cuckoo Marans, within the first two weeks, developed softly mottled brownish feathering, much like their adult plumage will be. I never did see the white bellies and heads.

When you get a box of 26 chicks, it’s hard to know who’s who. Newly hatched, many breeds look almost identical, and the colors of their downy coats bear no resemblance to what they’ll wear when mature. I have two Cuckoo Marans, which, two weeks ago were hard to distinguish from the Dominiques (both were dark with white spots on their heads.) However, lately, the white bellies of the Marans have become more distinctive.

It’s an awkward stage,

Blue Andalusian chick

but darned cute.