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Chickens are chicken


Yes, it is true, chickens are indeed chicken. They are scared of everything. They are scared of us. At least our baby chicks are scared of us. For some reason I didn't expect the babies to be afraid of us, and especially not me. I am the one who feeds them, waters them, and pets them. Our first batch of hens were very friendly, they didn't mind being picked up and they seemed to hang out with us when we were in the yard. Our second set of hens were a little more skittish and far less social. I figured it was because one set was raised as pets and the other set as farm chickens. I assumed that if we got chicks and raised them ourselves we would be able to enjoy extra friendly happy hens. But these adorable little chicks run to the farthest corner of the brooder and push themselves up against the sides to get away from us. I thought they were supposed to bond with me like I was their Mamma bird. So far no bonding. They do well when we finally get a hold of them and pull them out (one at a time). They don't try to run and they don't peck at our hands, but they sure don't run up and greet us either, perhaps all in good time.

This post is part of 31 days- a writing challenge and the ninth in my baby chick series!

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