My Young Chick's Progress

Late August 2012; Grumpy's Castle --

It has been awhile since Grumpy has "groused" about things on this BLOG, so he decided to take laptop in hand and do something about it. He has been to the Evergreen Fair (with his long-time friend, Margaret), and on two or three visits to Ft Bale (written up adequately here), but nothing with photographs and poetry like the story he will regale the reader with now.

Early in August, Grumpy admitted to "taking in" a couple of young chicks. Unfortunately, one of them was either abducted or ran away, never to be seen again. The remaining one has since matured into a very buxom young lady, whose side profile is shown here.

"Cheeper", the young chick featured in today's posting, is now into her early teenage -- at least one would think so by the way she scolds me when I try to hold her to talk to her -- or even touch her!! Although she is perfectly happy -- indeed she insists! -- to sit on my shoe, or my lap -- or on my arm. She does this only when she has had her fill of food and wants a warm place to sit and relax.

At night -- actually, in late afternoon as the sun is setting -- she comes to the kitchen door, looking up hopefully, until I open the storm/screen door and let her hop in. With her maturing age and non-housebroken habits, I dare not leave her to run around the kitchen nor the rest of the house. I immediately pick her up, and usually set her on my shoulder where she busies herself with "wiping her nose" on my shirt or the back of  my neck, and picking at my neck hairs [ouch!!]. I can walk throughout the house -- including down into the basement -- and she will remain on my shoulder. However, if I go outside, she will immediately fly down to the ground and go off to mind her own business.

When it nears "roosting time", I am again "rewarded" by her desire to be with me in the house. I pick her up [accompanied by her loud vocal objections!] and place her in the box in which I have transported her from her former home at Ft Bale to The Castle, and to other places where we have visited. I must cover the box, lest she jump up on the edge and then hop down to "explore" the premises. Last night for the first time, she seemed relatively content to stay down in her box [with new, fresh wood shavings for a change!] and with the cover on to ensure that she stay there. Previous nights, she has "talked" in baby-chick language for as long as an hour, necessitating me to respond with my reassuring words -- her "cheeps" got desperate, if I didn't respond within her idea of a reasonable time interval.

I am looking forward to having her for breakfast -- her egg, I mean! -- by about Christmas or New Year's. In the meantime, Grumpy must design and build a chicken house; it must have a "Queen's size" roost for her sleeping hours, a nest box in which she can deposit my breakfast, and a means to secure the entry/exit so racoons, cats and other would-be predators cannot "horn in" on my personal breakfast and companionship provider.