So, tomorrow my Polands go to a new home. I will be sorry to see them go, but since they lay white eggs, I can't have them with the Icees. The others are all coloured egg layers - Marans, Ameraucanas, Sussex and one Wyandotte. I'm going to eat the Indian Games (Cornish) after what Chickielady said her roo did to one of her pullets. Besides, they are hatchery stock and haven't turned out the way I hoped.
And thank you CL, for the return policy - but I don't think I will be needing it. Himself can learn to live with it.
I think his issue today was the fact they got him up at 4:00 am with the crowing. They are in the basement right now. I know that as soon as they are integrated with the flock, they won't be as bad, or if they are, at least they will be a lot further away.
And the only reason for being in the basement, is so I can get to know them a bit. I play them classical music (on the radio) and give them treats, and already they are getting quite calm. It seems like they are actually looking froward to seeing me.
My only other issue - I think I may be going insane. I'm not a farm raised girl. I'm not sure why I have chickens. I'm not sure why I am infatuated with them. I don't understand why I am on BYC so much. I don't know why I go to chicken shows. Why do I have all kinds of farm animals? I used to be dressed in "High Fashion", Donna Karan, Kalvin Klein, etc." What has happened? Now I wear Levi's and bogs. I'm wondering if my insurance covers psychiatric chicken issues. Is there a term for this?
In the interim, I shall pour another glass of wine, and make some pasta and hopefully resist the temptation to go into the basement yet again to stare glassy-eyed at chickens!