Let me first just say that I don't consider myself to be a sentimental chicken owner. Chickens are fascinating creatures in their funny way, and I respect their expert scratching in the dirt for food, their crazy dinosaur noises and their cruel but straightforward pecking orders. Most of all I respect them for their ability to convert seeds, worms and grubs ('Gross!' says Chris) into delicious eggs and eventually meat. But I don't think they love me, and I don't love them -- at least not in the same way I would love a cat or dog. I feel responsible for protecting them and caring for them, but it's not like they're cuddly.
That said, it was something to see them blink in the sun for the first time. Inside their cardboard box, they look huge. But outside they were barely taller than the grass, and they stayed right next to me for the first five minutes, peering up at me as though I might offer some guidance. So without thinking about it I started roughing up the dirt with a stick, and eventually they followed suit, scratching and pecking.
I had planned on patching my bike tire while they were exploring the wide world, but they were much too distracting and the whole process took me ages. It was just too entertaining to watch them pick their way through the grass. They weren't very good at it yet; they mostly ate dirt.
Not to mention the fuss Swinkles and Turnip were making. Enclosed in their coop, they ruffled their feathers and made so many weird barking noises that I was worried the neighbors would complain. I think they would have eaten Penguin and Dundee alive if we'd let them. It will be no easy chore to create a harmonious flock out of these warring dinos.
After about half an hour I brought the chicks back inside though; it was enough excitement for a day. The next step will be making a safe enclosure to use in transitioning them outside.
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