Our fierce warriors, terror of the chicken yard! Something happened, and their mama abandoned them when they were barely 3-4 weeks. She pecked and fought them, they fled. Timing was good, if it was winter time, they would be in the garage under the heat lamp. They spend several weeks under a massive pear tree, hiding from any possible danger and big chickens. They survived their vulnerable motherless stage.
First, they were cute, with their baby fluff and all. Then they started losing their baby cuteness and went patchy bald. Farmer Boy started calling them gangsters, I called them ragamuffins. Farmer Boy also called them munchkins at one point. "Muffins" stuck with them. They are about 3 months old, and they look big and strong. They come running out to great Farmer Boy and me. They recognize us, they talk to us, they come and sit with us. It is really heart-warming. Some chickens grow up and forget the bond they had with us. Some chickens remain our "doggies", they follow us around, they remember us, and they trust us when we handle their babies. I wonder what it will be like with our muffins.
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