Happy Birthday Peeps

The peeps are one week old today. They have grown at a phenomenal rate, and are strong and healthy. I am very pleased with their progress. I was much less pleased, however, when the ever tolerant husband woke up this morning to find that the heat lamp had blown. Cue me flying down the stairs with hair like Wurzel Gummidge and expecting the worst. The chicks were happily scratching about in the sand bath, and not shivering in a corner near death as I had imagined. Still, to be on the safe side, I scooped them up and brought them in to the house in a shoe box.

The ever tolerant husband gallently embarked on a mercy dash to the local country store to purchase a new bulb. I chewed my nails nervously, hoping that the chicks wouldn't have hypothermia. The chicks ignored my fretting, and pecked the box enthusiastically, making sure it wasn't edible. The new bulb was dropped at the door en route to the ever tolerant husband's real business of the day, and with relief I returned the peeps to their brooder. With marvellous aplomb, they turned their back on the heat and headed back to the sand bath. They seem completely unfazed by the whole episode, where as I think I have added a couple of wrinkles to the collection.

The unruffled peeps.

The suspected boy, complete with curling feathers.

The straight feathers on the other two are clear. Typical.

Hopefully, the gender divide should get more obvious in the next week.