Right now, at this moment, I have eleven chickens secreted about the place. By the end of the day, I should have only six or seven. Yes, today the silkies are going to their new home, and taking a boy chick with them. The lavender lad, aka the marvellously inappropriate 'Penelope', is moving out at the tender age of five weeks. Just before he leaves home, though, the black frizzle will be tripping off to his new home in the Derbyshire peaks, where he will no doubt rule the roost and have a brilliant time. That leaves me with just the little black chick.
The straight feathered black chap was the first to hatch, and up until just two weeks ago showed all the signs of being a girl. (Mind you, so did the lavender. It appears that feather sexing is not the most reliable way of sexing baby pekins). I had a suspicion that the black lad would be the hardest to rehome. He doesn't have the wow factor of the exploding frizzle, and he isn't the appealing colour of the lavender (who I suspect will be truly stunning as an adult). However, I shall persevere. Just this morning, I recieved an email in response to an ad asking if I still had any pekin cockerels. I have replied, bigging up the little dude, so here's hoping.
The timing of all this moving out is particularly fortuitous. Tomorrow, the amazing ever tolerant husband will drive me nearly ninety miles to the pekin breeder, where I will finally get my mitts on a pekin frizzle. She is eleven weeks old, and black, and definitely a girl! The youngest is allowed to pick her a straight feathered friend, so expect pics early next week. I am super excited, and the knowledge that I will soon have chicks I can keep is keeping me chipper for the inevitable sadness of saying goodbye to the peeps.
It's all go.
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