The chicks are calling

 The baby chicks in our basement are very interesting houseguests. They peep peep peep peacefully all day, an ongoing soundtrack for my workday. Sometimes my associates comment that they can hear something in the background in our Zoom meetings. Then I have to take my camera downstairs and show them what is making the noise. 

If you make a sudden move, the chickens emit a collective SQUAWK. I also find it very strange and somehow endearing, the way they all decide it’s time to go to sleep. Like immediately, all at once, without a discussion first. They just close their eyes and put their heads down where they are – in the wood shavings, in the feeding trough, under the heat lamp. 

They are going through a lot of water. We can only put small watering units in there, upturned mason jars dribbling into tiny lids that are too small for a chick to fall asleep and drown in. These water stations are up on bricks so that they don’t get the wood shavings all wet and cause the chicks to catch a chill and die. 

I see tiny feathers sprouting from their backs. They are losing their golden fluff and baby cuteness. My granddaughter holds a yellow chick in her hand and repeats, “awwwww….awwww…” over and over again. The Golden Retriever, intrigued by the sound and smell, tip toes down the basement stairs. He is normally scared out of the basement by a trio of hissing cats. It is their lair. Today he comes over and peeks his head into the circular pen of baby chickens. Then he sees the one the child is holding in her hands, and dives at it with a ‘snap’ of his jaws. She pulls the bird away from him, just in time. 

“Oh!” we say, in unison (including the bird). I collect the tiny creature, smooth its ruffled fluff and tuck it safely back under the heat lamp to gather its wits. The dog was quickly ushered back upstairs, where he will remain for the next few weeks until we move our slightly smelly houseguests out to the shed. 

I’m hoping they grow enough feathers to keep them warm for the nine weeks or so that they will be in the barn. They will be under heat lamps, and big enough to cuddle together without smothering themselves. Still, we never know what kind of weather November will bring, and December can be brutally cold. A nice blanket of snow to insulate the barn from any chilling drafts would be perfect, if I could place an order. 

For now, I have to find a way to keep the chicken coop smell from rising up out of the basement and into the rest of the house. 

-30-