Chickens. Yes, really, chickens

4 day old chick, getting its feather on

The chickens have arrived.  I don't know if we're brilliantly cunning for embarking on this grand experiment or stunningly insane.  But as the little darlings are now ensconced in their humble garage abode, we're committed. 

2 day old chicks under their hover brooder

In the last few years we've toyed with the idea of raising some hens for eggs, but since we have some really awesome neighbors who happily sell us their eggs from their pastured hens, there hasn't been a need.  Last year a friend and colleague of the husband raised a backyard flock of meat chickens with rousing success (see the story of his chicken experience and gardening exploits at his blog,  Insurgent Chickens), and after his glowing reports on the ease of raising them and the high quality of the meat, the husband was convinced. 

So here we are, the proud parents of 35 or so Cornish Rock Cross chicks (we actually aren't sure how many there are... we ordered 35 but suspect our hatchery generously sent more and the little buggers won't hold still long enough to get a hard count). 

I'll write more about our chicken adventure over the next eight weeks (sorry, feathery friends, your days are already numbered). I strongly suspect the question about our sanity will be answered by then.