Last week Gregg received 321 chickens in the mail. Unfortunately, some of them have died. (They trampled each other.) But, as survival of the fittest continues to prove true, many of them are alive and strong and chirping away in our shed. Gregg has set up heat lamps to keep them warm, and they have mason jar watering concoctions set up to quench their thirst. They also have some kind of chicken feed to eat. Life is good for the baby chicks. Now, we only have to wait 3, 4, or 5 months, and they will start laying colorful eggs for us (and other willing Eastern Shore residents) to eat.
During the trampling, Gregg created an “Infirmary” for the baby chicks. I volunteered to/Gregg made me help pull out the weaklings and sicklings from the heap of healthy chicks and into the “Infirmary.” Good thing I’m a nurse. This is the first time that my feet have been covered with bird feces from helping the sick. It may not be the last.
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