So, what happens when you put two blonde chicks in with a misanthropic hedgehog? I had the video camera all ready….
Seriously. Not a thing. Hufflepuff walked to the corner of his cage and showed his hiney to the new girls. They, in return, gave his quills a couple of friendly, exploratory pecks. Then they pooped. Checked out his food bowl. Looked at his water bottle. Gave it a couple of friendly, exploratory pecks. Then settled under his heat lamp. So much for a super-cute video of the chicks imprinting on a hedgehog and following him around. So much for Hufflepuff puffing up and huffing to defend his territory against the blonde interlopers. Nope. Plain old boring.
But, let me back up. Perhaps you are wondering why the Woosley family currently has 1 pygmy frog, an African hedgehog, and two chickens. It’s because my husband won’t let us get a dog. Too much responsibility. I can also blame Stein. He’d just gotten baby chicks when we stayed at his house in Virgina last month. He made them look easy to care for. Heck, he let us hold them with their downy softy-soft fur and their funny feet. The way the little blondies fell asleep in the palm of your hand. The way they drink and throw their little necks back to swallow. The perfect little nail on the end of each toe.
Back in Maryland, then, Diana’s 11th birthday was approaching. She asked for a horse and a car. Chickens suddenly seemed reasonable. My friend Mrs. Kathy Peter was soooo nice. She is loaning us two chicks. The twins and I went to pick them up and Diana was able to have them when they were two days old.
The one on the right has a little dark spot on her head. Her name is Hot Wings. The girl on the left is Tenders.
Because we’re a family that needs more chaos, right? The chicks grow fast. In fact, while we were camping over Memorial Day, they learned all about flapping their wings and this thing called flying. Our friend Isabel came in to feed/water them and ended up finding Tenders strolling through our family room and Hot Wings pooping it up in my closet.
Being almost two weeks old, I guess they are in their early teens in human years. They are sprouting tail feathers and ‘developing.’ I kinda wanted to make a chicken bra with two half coconuts, but I got distracted looking through the Polly Pocket bin trying to find coconuts that small. They don’t need their incubator anymore and are moving out to the garage until they learn to tidy their cages and use deoderant. And, also, stop spilling their water.
They also like to roost and feel out their independence. Here’s the chickies helping Diana with her homework.
So, no viral video of Hufflepuff and the Chicks, but right after I put the camera away our neighbors came over to play. The girls let the chicks perch on a toy pirate ship and we were trying to figure out to make Hot Wings walk the plank (about three inches off the ground, no animals were harmed during these reenactments!). Suddenly the door flies open and there is my neighbor’s 3-year-old son with a sword in one hand and sporting a crooked eyepatch with the elastic folding over his right ear. His face is absolutely filled with horror. “No chicks on the pirate ship. No chicks allowed.”
Yeah. Where was my camera then?