We got our first shipment of chicks today: egg layers. This feels like a real step of faith, since the 25 or so birds we currently have produce more eggs than we are able to eat or sell. It's the one product we have in excess. But we don't have enough to support ten families plus the Lykoshes, and since it takes five months for layers to get to maturity, we need to start raising chicks well before we actually need eggs.
Isaiah and Joe drove up to the post office to get our box of peeps. Isaiah poked his fingers in the holes and they would peck, which made me laugh and laugh. He opened the edge just a bit so he could see in better, and as we pulled into the driveway, he said, "Oh! One just hopped out!" Little yellow chick on the loose, cheeping, "Let me OUT of there!"
Joel Salatin rotates through three breeds of layers, all with very different appearance. That way, after the two-year-old hens are not laying enough eggs to support their feed, he knows easily which birds to cull. Last year we started getting eggs from Rhode Island Reds; this year we're starting Barred Rocks, and next year we're thinking we'll try Black Astralorps. Red, checkered, black, and then back to red.
But we also know that White Leghorns are the absolutely most productive of the layer breeds. All hens lay about 600 eggs in their lives, but Leghorns lay their 600 in the shortest period (thus consuming the least amount of food, and being the most profitable). That's why white eggs are less expensive: they cost a good bit less to produce.
So Phil and decided to split the order this year: half Leghorns, half Barred Rocks. Our box was a stark contrast of light and dark!
With one freebie chick, that we were excited to see has feathers on his feet! Yippee! It makes me smile just to see him.
We're curious if they'll really do that much better. Leghorns are the chickens you see in the confinement feeding operations: do they do that well outside? On first glance, several of the Leghorns looked ill. As you may be able to see in the photo, the yellow chick in the foreground has slits for eyes; Feathers, in the background, has the healthy, round, beady eyes we like to see. So we spritzed Arnica, and a few hours later, I couldn't see any chicks that appeared ill or stressed. Hopefully they are doing well.
There is a sad coda to this idyllic story of happy boys, parents, and chicks. Four of us were in the trailer, getting the babies set and happy. The chicks were so happy to be out of their box: Whites under the heat lamp, Blacks were zipping around. We didn't think about shuffling slowly, and, in a moment, one of the chicks was trod upon and her tiny body now lies in the compost pile.
This threatened to cast shadows on my whole day. Why can't we keep alive the animals in our care!?
But I had read a missionary biography last week that helped me today. In it, Isobel Kuhn grieved over her separation from her daughter when the girl went to boarding school (a separation that ended up lasting something like six years, due to WWII). After she had spent herself in grief, the Lord gently reprimanded her: "You have exhausted yourself in grief, saddened your husband, and didn't help you daughter. Next time, gird up your loins and be a soldier. Use common sense, and don't indulge in excess grief."
While my little loss today is tiny by comparison, it was helpful to remember. An accidental death of a $2 chick is not the end of the world.
My boys loved holding the chicks; we are hopeful that the rest of the chicks are healthy.
And so I finished my day.
Butch came by to let us know we have a tornado watch. He mentioned that we are in a drought. Within a half hour, rain came down, and poured and drizzled for the rest of the day. Phil had indoor work, and I planted in the greenhouse.
Six hundred tomato and tomatillo seeds went into tiny soil blocks. Fifty more asparagus sprouted yesterday, bringing me to right about 50% germination now. That's quite encouraging.
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