It’s been so quiet the past couple of days (taxes done, manuscript submitted, Scott out of town, kids at school) — unnaturally quiet until last night when I think Buddha just decided that our house needed an interjection of chaos to bring things back to normal.

I’ve been keeping the baby chicks in the covered patio, in a big plastic tub filled with pine shavings. Since the chicklets have now grown winglets, they can sort of flap!flap!flap! really fast to travel somewhat vertically so we’ve have a screen that we put on top to keep them from escaping. Yesterday, I took the screen off to let them flap!flap!flap! to perch up on the edge of the tub. Well, silly me forgot to put the screen back on and a couple hours later, I counted the chicks…1…2…3…4…uh, where’s #5?!

Checked Coco for any telltale signs of perhaps a little snack (none), checked the patio furniture – under over sides (nope), checked the swimming pool (nope). Finally, after nearly 20 minutes of frantic searching, I found the little troublemaker inside the giant 10 pound chick feedbag, pecking away at her food. So (in)approriate that the kids named her “Nugget.”
Speaking of names, I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I let the kids and their friends name the chicks. Lesson: Don’t let 7, 8  and 42 year olds name baby chicks:
My husband, the 42 year old kid, named “Tiramisu” – why? no idea. He doesn’t even like coffee.
Here’s Nugget about to take off flapping again:
They are beginning to lose their baby fuzz, with the feathers growing in:
Spotty looks like she has a mask on (we think she might be a Sicilian Buttercup)

The yellow chicks are Salmon Faverolles – she’ll grow puffy cheek muffs, a beard….and has…..

5 toes (instead of the normal 4) and they have feathers on their feet!

Oh shit.