Let’s play a game, “Which one doesn’t belong?” I think I used to watch that game on Sesame Street. This game involves small puppet like creatures as well. The three Cuckoo Marans that I brought home were very tiny and adorable. The smallest melted my heart from the get go. She was smaller than the other chicks and kept getting her bottom mucked up. I had to clean her backside so much her tail feathers didn’t grow in for a long time! She waddles around with the other nine chickens, smaller and prettier. After the first few weeks I noticed that Louisa was lighter colored than Liesel and Brigitta. While Liesel and Brigitta have decidedly rich dark brown feathers with little white spots, their little sister has white and almost blue feathers. I told Doug, “I don’t think she is a Marans.” Yesterday I noticed the cute little comb forming….Wait a ticket, I think we are on to something here. The other girls do not have their combs yet. Nor their wattles. And this darling little girl is already growing both before all of her feathers are even in.
So, my chicken folk out there, am I right? Is Louisa really a Louis?
His daily kisses have been doubled as I want the most spoiled, friendly rooster out there. I thought we could name him Capt. Von Trappe, since we have all the Von Trappe singers over here (except Louisa apparently), but it was nixed almost immediately. “Mr. Higgins!” Shyanne loudly called out. “His name must be Henry Higgins.” Andrew and Emily quickly agreed. Doug wanted the name to be Colonel. He was outvoted in a loud teenaged manner.
My Fair Lady is Shyanne’s favorite play. When pronouncing Mr. Higgins’ name, one must take care to keep the H silent and you must have a bit of an English accent when addressing him. “Allo, Enry Iggins!”
Meanwhile inside the coop, when the big sisters are out to play, the babies have a hey day. Should you peek into the coop mid-day you will find what looks like the inside of Santa’s workshop with toys flying lopsided in circles. Little toy chickens flying here and there, crash landing, then stealing their big sisters’ food. Adorable.
We are not afraid to admit it, we are officially Chicken People….and I think we have a rooster.