Here at the end of our third week as suburban chicken farmers, we’re finding that our little fuzzy McNuggets are turning into, well … chickens. They’re getting longer necks, sprouting feathers in odd places, and starting to do that freaky little chicken walk thing.
They’re still small enough to be in their crate in the house, but we’ll be moving them to a chicken coop some time in the next couple of weeks. We spend some time each day socializing them, so they get used to people and don’t get too skittish.
Oh, and don’t let anyone tell you chickens can’t fly. They fly just fine. Like, halfway across the room. It’s not an elegant, soaring, swooping flight. It’s more like a flying version of the dry heaves. But it’s flight, and it’s seriously alarming when you’re not expecting it.