Ruby and Rose continue to grow at an alarming speed. I have them in the tallest box I own and I can see the tops of their heads a mere quarter-inch below the top. This is the stuff sci-fi movies are made from- plants that grow at tremendous speeds, animals that grow to defy sanity.
They are taking forays out into the yard now. I have a baby run that attaches to an enclosed dog crate so they have the best of both worlds. They tend to stay at one end- the one with their food and water. When I first turned them loose in the run, their eyes dilated to pin pricks, and they seemed to gasp for air. It was easy to see their dinosaur heritage that day, I was envisioning velociraptor. They were glad I stayed close, giving them a familiar reference to hone in on.
Rose, in particular, looks like Larry of The Three Stooges, or maybe Bozo the Clown. Her teen head feathers are in, making the top of her head look sleek, while all around her head are the fuzzy reddish baby feathers. I have to work to keep a straight face when I look at her.
Ruby is more than willing to come over and sit on my hand to be delivered back into the box at the end of the day. Rose, well, she is a bit more obstinate. I keep telling her she’ll be much happier co-operating, instead of being grabbed when she makes a pass. I am willing to sit and wait on her for about fifteen minutes, and then it’s time to move on.
It won’t be long before they’ll graduate to a pen inside the chicken pen to become acquainted with their aunts, Lucy and Ethel.