Welcome Back

Laying motionless, they are sprawled out beside one another like college students on the front lawn of a university frat house the morning after an all night kegger. Because of the intense heat, they're intentionally spaced apart from one another, fearing any touching will intensify the nearly unbearable temperature. Face down with stretched necks and legs stiffly extended, they breath in concert to a slow and steady rhythm.  And, their wings flare out from their sides like stubby arms.

Peeps have been purchased and are sleeping under the intense red glow of the heat lamp.

Peeps in action.

Because of hungry coyotes sneaking in for feathered snacks and old age running its course, the flock was reduced to three hens and one gentle rooster living in a hen house built for twelve. So, during late winter, we decided to bolster the flock with eight additional birds.

When pages of gardening magazines burped out the cracks of the overstuffed mailbox, I recognized this first sign of spring also coincided with baby chickens for sale at farm/ranch supply stores. Such agricultural stores in large metropolitan cities stirs an inner giggle.  Like when I walk in and am greeted with a "howdy" or a "y'all" from employees in tight rhinstone "britches" or cowboy hats folded up like taco shells-- and who very well may not know which end of the cow goes moo.

To me, barnyard chicken flocks need color. All red or all white chickens scratching around in the dirt are boring to watch; I like splashes of color to liven up the scene. Plus, as a bonus, colored feathers means colored eggs which are far more enjoyable to see in the nest boxes versus plain old boring white eggs. So, two chicks from four different breeds were selected and brought home.

A large cardboard box, sawdust, a heat lamp, a waterer and a feeder were gathered and the chicks quickly had a new home. Animal behavior has always intrigued me and the peeps did not disappoint as I got spellbound watching them dart around in their new house. Although only one to two days old, the little stinkers already knew how to excavate like grownups. Both feet scratching hard and flinging material backwards while dropping their heads to search for what they might have unearthed was flamboyantly displayed at their feeder. If one found treasure, it immediately ran about, parading its prize which was immediately snatched away by a fellow chick. This comical stint kept repeating itself, involving most of the chicks, until the cherished possession was eventually consumed. If one fed at the feeder, they all fed.  If one huddled in the corner, they all dog-piled in a chirping mass of soft fuzz.  If one stood motionless on their delicate, toothpick legs and closed her eyes, others join in.  I chuckled out loud as sleep took over and got the tiny birds rocking back and forth to the point where they violently jerked themself awake when the tipping point was reached. Others who settled into a sitting position made me laugh as their sleepy heads became heavy, bobbing and jerking as they fought the sleep monster--kind of like heads in church pretending to be listening to a boring sermon on a hot summer day.

Fuzz will soon be replaced by miniature feathers that will evolve into big feathers and eventually the peeps will be integrated with the others out in the hen house.

Spring time is symbolic of a new beginning, of life being created. It's good to have peeps around again--they more than offset the sadness experienced during the loss of their predecessors.