Went down to Julie’s this morning, had breakfast, and then we headed over to the chicken auction. My neighbor and fellow crazy chicken lady Carrie–who, by the way, steadfastly maintains that my rooster to hen ratio may not be as dire as I think-met us there.
The auction is a totally unique experience. The auctioneer is this wizened little man with a big voice. You don’t always understand what he’s saying–or how much you’re bidding–so it’s a good thing that there’s also a woman who unceremoniously yanks the animal or animals out of a cardboard box to show them to everyone. It’s amazing; she can hold three roosters by the crook of their wings in one hand with legs dangling and their bellies facing the crowd. Not terribly dignified, but hey, it gets the job done. The best moment was when she pulled out the two cutest baby bunnies you have ever seen. Every single woman in the audience took that deep breath that comes before “OOOOOHHHHH!” It was this great collective noise–and then we all burst into laughter.
So I ended up with five hens: four welsummers (welsumers, if you want to be proper, but let’s face it–no one spells it that way) and one buttercup. It’s a lot. The coop looks like a chicken tenement, though the outside run will be done tomorrow, and I’m probably not going to keep them all anyway.
In they went with the chickiepoos, who promptly scattered. The king roosterlet bravely went up to one hen, took one peck … and then went running for his life the moment she fixed a beady little eye on him and leaned over to take a peck of her own. Yep, she may be a girl, but she will kick your tailfeathers.
I should have gotten better pictures, but didn’t really get around to it until this evening. All the girls were chilling in the henhouse. Here are the welsummers:
And here’s the buttercup:
And then I noticed … could it be? Is it … really? Yes. An egg. Even though I wasn’t expecting any for a couple of weeks at least. Must be from the buttercup, because it’s small and white.