Mornings start much earlier with baby chicks

By Angie Bicker

My baby chicks have become an integral part of my life these past two weeks. I now have a few chores to do before I head off to work in the morning.

My mornings start early — way before the sun comes up. I swear I am up before some farmers. My alarm usually goes off anywhere between 3:45 and 4 a.m. It’s very sad when I consider 6 a.m. sleeping in on the weekend. I’m glad I’m a morning person.

My day starts off with getting myself ready, taking care of Cordy and then tending to my little girls outside. It’s hard to believe but I have 28 living, breathing animals who depend on me to take care of them 24 hours a day. Cordy has been very good practice. After Cordy has gone outside and done her business, she comes back in for a bone and her thyroid medication. Then it’s time to check on my girls.

When I open the door I say, “Good morning my little girls. How are you doing today?”

I can’t believe how fast they are growing. They are starting to lose their yellow fuzz and get feathers — very cool. My little girls have gone through a 50-pound bag of feed in just two weeks. Can you believe it?

They also are drinking a lot too. I have to fill their waterers about three times a day. I have to mix a teaspoon of what is called Quick Chick in one gallon of water and then dispense it into their waterers. I hope my girls appreciate everything I am doing for them.

When I come home from work, I check to see how they are doing and the temperature in the building. Since they are still babies, their living quarters have to be heated with an infrared lamp. The first week, the temperature had to be between 90 and 95 degrees. With the hot weather, that wasn’t a problem. I even had to shut the lamp off during the afternoon. I wanted to make sure I ended up with egg layers not fryers on my plate.

I have done the unthinkable. I named one of my chicks. Since the hatchery sent me one rare chick with my order, I thought I would name her. It’s better than calling her the odd chick all the time. Those words could be damaging to her psyche later on. My little Golden Polish chick is named Snickers. She is caramel in color and with an ever-growing tuft on her head. She is very cute. She will certainly stand out among the other white hens.

My chicks are a lot more active than a week ago. They are flying around and sitting on their roost. They also have been sitting on top of a cardboard wall, which encloses their living quarters around the heat lamp. It’s pretty comical when I open the door and find chicks perched on their cardboard fence looking at me. I stood in the chicken house one day and watched one chick get chased around the building with a piece of paper in her mouth. I guess they like to play too.

My girls have picked up one habit that I don’t like but is not uncommon for chickens. They have been flying at one another, strutting their stuff, and displaying their dominance. I don’t like seeing any animal fight, but I guess there are bullies everywhere. It looks like the chicken version of “West Side Story,” — the Jets against the Sharks.

When 6:30 p.m. approaches, I do my chores for the night. They get more food and water and a little extra bedding thrown on the floor to help keep them warm. I deserve the Chick Mother of the Year Award don’t you think?

My life is starting to resemble “The Waltons.” Before I close my chicken house door for the night, I say “Goodnight my girls. I’ll see you in the morning.” And, before my head hits the pillow I also say “Goodnight Cordy.” Now, I just need a baby calf so I can say “Goodnight John Boy.”

Angie Bicker is the lifestyles editor with the Clinton Herald. She has been with the Herald since 2001.