No pics today - while the rain has let up from the earlier line of storms, it is still dreary and grey and blah. The chicks made it through their first downpour, with most looking dry and warm, unlike the "dragons" aka the broody pullets. Anyone who does not think that an appropriate nickname for broody bantams has never tried to pick up a chick in front of one. I have no idea what Dude did this morning, but he was getting his fluffy butt kicked all around the tractor by one of the black pullets.
I had the unpleasant chore of culling one of the splash Silkie chicks. It was not using its lower leg or foot, but was walking on the end of the drumstick, with the rest of the leg and foot off to the side at an awkward angle. It may have been stepped on, or that may have been a hatching injury we just did not see, but after a few days it became more noticeable instead of getting better.
I have a new egg customer: the fellow that runs the smoke shop where I buy my tobacco and filters. I need to get his name today, because it really is bad form to not know. I took a dozen eggs up to the family at the Latin Italian Grill ... only to find out they have chickens even with a restaurant to run. When I commented that I honestly didn't think they had time for livestock, Lee said the one who does the chickens "goes 90 miles per hour every minute he's awake."
I got some more planting accomplished: starting tomato seeds indoors. I planted some Home Farmer "Old German" and some Burpee "Mortgage Lifter" in a 72-cell starter tray, with cool little 6-cell packs that I filled with the seed starter Lynn sold me, plus the egg shell fragments from the hatch. Every single time I have moved a tomato volunteer from the compost heap, it has had its roots wrapped around at least one piece of egg shell, and usually several.
Tomorrow I will be selling some layers, plus Silkie Boy. I am now certain I have at least one black cockerel, and suspect a second. The Pretties have us very well stocked in eggs, so some of our less favorite layers will go to the livestock auction to be someone else's layers. Not all culls end up in our refrigerator!