Meat Chickens in their first few days. They were so cute, I couldn't even imagine . . . but then they ate, and ate, and ate, and ate, and ate, and wouldn't stop eating. They were growing at such an alarming rate that we had to take their food out at night so that their skin didn't split. Lucky me, we got hit with rain on and off during the 5 weeks that we had these guys. Rain was probably one of the hardest things, let me explain why. These little eating and pooping machines are not genetically engineered but selectively bred to grow at an astounding rate. One of the parents is a Cornish Hen and the other a Plymouth Rock, in the meat industry these little guys are called Cornish X's (crosses). Most of them, if left to live their natural life won't make it past 12 weeks, prime time for processing (I still haven't come across a word I like for it). Because of their rate of growth their body does not have time to digest fat deposits around the heart. Back to the rain, as we started approaching week 2 I was getting a little nervous watching them put on weight. They would sleep at the food dish and were only able to stand for minutes at a time before needing to take a break and sit down. They spent so much time sitting down that they had no feathers on their underside, it was pink! I learned from my reading that sores on their bellies were the number 1 reason they died. With the rain and how much they pooed it was a daunting task to make sure their living quarters were dry. At times I was in their coop up to 3 times a day scooping poops! Some storms were so bad that I just gave up and carried them all in (in trips that is) into the laundry room for the night, I just through newspaper and wood shavings on the ground and shut the door. I must have looked pretty funny in my rain jacket and boots carrying loads of  fat chickens in laundry baskets. The weeks went on and they grew and grew and grew . . . it was shocking how much they grew. We became very aware that it was not quantity of life for these guys but quality, so we allowed them out in the evenings to free range a little. That was pretty funny tho, 10 feet from the coop was a real adventure for them, they would just lie down and peck at all grass and bugs they could reach from there. The 3rd picture is me holding one of them at week 5. My neighbor and I would stand at the coop during the day and just laugh because when one of them wanted to get somewhere in hurry it sounded like horse hoofs on the ground.
To be continued . . . I am getting tired just writing this story!