The ever tolerant husband is a truly marvellous bloke. He indulges my chicken obsession, drives all over the country so that I can look at birds, pays endless amounts of his hard earned cash out to poultry supply stores and vets, and even puts up with my sobbing hysterics when one of my beloved girls departs this world. I am one very lucky madchickenlady.
Today he took me to a farm and let me choose two new baby pekins. I was very glad that there were no Mini-a-like's there, and was drawn to the cutest, scruffiest little ball of silver and grey feathers. Of course, I should be more level headed and avoid anything pathetic looking like the plague, but this little lady had me from first glance. I have decided to name her Celia, a suitably gentile name for such a delicate creature. Celia is a scruffy mix of chick feathers and adult plummage, but I can already see that she will be beautiful. While I was admiring her, a bolshy little gold partridge chick swaggered over, giving me the once over. Sold. (This bundle of attitude is proving harder to name, so I have created a poll, and would very much appreciate your input. Also, if you have any other 'old lady' name suggestions, feel free to offer them in the comments box).
So, there are now two tiny ladies asleep in the pet carrier in the downstairs bathroom, snuggled against the radiator. Tomorrow, the ever tolerant husband and I will clear space in the garage, and set up the heat lamp in a makeshift run. The new arrivals will spend several weeks under heat out there before they are sufficiently grown to cope without. Then the fun of introductions will begin again.
He is bloody fabulous, my husband.