Ladies, Please

The Girls(?) enjoy some watermelon

We're all led to believe that the age-old question has to do with the order of chickens and eggs. I disagree.

Don't ask, "Which came first?"

Rather, let's ask, "Are you a hen or a rooster?"

Supposedly the folks that sell the chicks are knowledgeable in this area. Good. I want them to be.

But to err is human, and I don't think that Callahan's has robots for chickie-rear-checking employees yet. So it's possible that we could have gotten a rooster among our little flock. And now I'm concerned.

You see, one of our sweet little chickens is developing much faster than the others. While all of our girls will eventually grow a comb (floppy part on top of the chicken's head), it is very noticeable that one chicken is growing hers with...with more gusto than the rest.

Can you SEE that thing? It's huge!

Floss, is your already-prominent pink comb a sign that you are actually a rooster? Please, no!

(A little science lesson: like human females, hens produce eggs regularly that will only result in babies if a male is around to fertilize them. Roosters are not a part of our backyard plan. If Floss is a rooster we'll have to donate her to a farm.)

There are plenty of websites explaining the finer aspects of sexing your chickens. Frankly I'm not interested in careful examination of their little chickie rears, especially since I don't yet have an eye for what I'd be seeing. It just sounds like an uncomfortable--for all parties--waste of time.

They say that how your chicken behaves and how its tail looks can also indicate hen/rooster-ness. Again, this ranchess sees everything with brand-new eyes and is untrained. I see that Glendora is extremely bossy and protective as if she were a rooster, and I have noticed that Peepsie has yet to grow herself a proper tail.

But Glennie has always been pushy, and Peepsie is still quite behind the rest of the girls in development. She still has some of her chickie fluff.

Sweet, semi-unattractive (right now) Peepsie

So all I can do is continue with my routine of feeding and watering them and watching them be silly chickens. I delight in the fact that they now eat scraps of people food (maybe we won't have to buy a garbage disposal after all!)

I do not delight in the fact that Peepsie likes to stand very very close to me and poop. Open-toed shoes in a chicken coop are a poor choice for a ranchess.

While I am taking this photo Peepsie is creeping closer to my toes...ew, stop it!

I also should admit that I can't always tell them apart. As their feathers have come in, I've had to perform little tests to see who was who among the flock. I used to tell Gertie and Floss apart by their looks, and again the same with Ruby and Lemon.

One day I simply couldn't distinguish between them--all of their colors suddenly seemed different. But Floss was always the one who'd peck at my ring, and Lemon without fail will step up into my hands when I hold out feed. It was kind of sweet to be able to offer my hands out and identify them by their signature pecking and stepping.

And now I'm watching Floss with even closer eyes. Her pink comb and new feathers are lovely, but I just have to make sure she doesn't start getting, well, cocky.

Is this the face of a dude? Gosh I hope not.