The Chicks Come Home

Recently, we found out our city changed the urban chicken ordinances to allow homeowners to have hens! Our family has long wanted to have a flock of laying hens. Like many Portlanders we try to be aware of where our food comes from and how it is produced. The adventures of growing vegetables in our shady backyard were, to say the least, unsuccessful. The nearby farmer's market quickly became a better option than toiling over still green tomatoes in August. Hens seemed a much better match for our yard.

This last week the garden shop down the street advertised that they were going to be getting chicks in on Friday afternoon. Friday afternoon came. We were ready for our fragile baby chicks with a box, heat lamp, food (chick starter), water and grit.

And Friday afternoon went. The chicks never came. The manager forgot to order them. A look on Craigslist and a phone call later we secured five chicks, a mere hour down the freeway. The next morning we picked up five lovely chicks, three weeks old. Three of the chicks are Barred Rock, the remaining two are Buff Orpington.

They are older than we planned. We added two perches for the chicks. They are just beginning to sleep on the perch, although the floor still seems preferred.

The rush of building the hen house started this afternoon, we want to get them moved into the hen house as soon as they out grow the box, which could happen any day if they keep growing at the rate they have in just the last day.

While we were framing the hen house (pictures to come) we were amazed by the warm clear weather, unusual for the Portland area in October. It didn't seem fair that these hardy, healthy girls were kept inside. An upturned laundry basket became a play yard we simply slid to follow the sun. They were delighted, pecking at the grass and peeping happily. Our Dachshund, Tucker, wasn't sure what to make of them. I introduced him to the chicks through the laundry basket. I think at this point he is certain that the are a new type of squeaky toy.

Naming the chicks has become a tricky business. At first the name list consisted old women's names, Gracie, Henny Penny, Mabel, Agnes, Dixie, and Henrietta. The name Yoko was suggested by my stepdad, L. , which quickly degraded to Yolk-o. Now Eggo is suggested.

The only named chick is a Barred Rock with marking near her eyes and beak who has been dubbed Henrietta. I claimed her. Slowly, after much observation I have been able to tell each chick apart.

Tomorrow, construction on the hen house continues, probably with more chick pictures. Pictures and eventually design directions to follow.

---A.