Sorry for no poems yesterday. I'm sure my faithful readers were just devastated. But life intervened so maybe I will add some extra poetry as the year goes on.
Into life as a chicken farmer I dive.
For eggs, and custards, and scrambles I strive.
But equipment malfunction
Meant no crossing life's junction
So instead of twenty chicks, there are five.
Yes I arranged pickup the chicks today, after my time with Little Farmer. I'm not sure what varieties they are, but there are at least two it appears.
Three mostly black, one of whom has a white blaze where the comb will be. The others are more brownish. With only five, I hazard a guess that there are two or three roosters. I think I will probably supplement these guys with whatever I can find at the farm supply store.
So far, after a noisy ride home, where I narrowly avoided heat stroke, no signs of bumble foot or pasty butt.