Ahem. With the disclaimer that identifying breeds of chickens from chicks seems dicey, I would like to introduce....
Alanis (Morissette), the Easter Egger. Although she was a little slow off the starting blocks, I believe 'Lani might be the flock leader. She's certainly biggest, and she tends to be bravest in trying new things. I found a half-dead lady bug for her a few days ago--it was the high point of her life so far.
Tori (Amos), the Buff Orpington. If 'Lani is Captain Kirk, Tori is her Spock. (Sorry, just got done watching The Voyage Home.) A little more cautious, but always curious and ready to jump in when necessary. And she likes me, so that's nice.
Ingrid (Michaelson), the Silver Cuckoo Maran. By far the most skittish of the chick-a-dees, I'm afraid she kind of hates me. Seriously, she runs squawking every time I pick her up. I don't know what I did to offend her.
Norah (Jones), the Australorp. Norah used to like me...but at least I know why she changed her mind. She is the only one of our five to have had any serious pasty butt. (Yup, that's exactly what it sounds like!) A week of me wiping her butt with damp rags twice a day has...well, it's made her think a bit less of me.
And last but not least, my little Fiona (Apple), the Gold Wyandotte. What can I say? I love the ones that give me trouble, and she's the tiniest of the bunch. She also was not happy with her newly growing wing feathers Friday afternoon and started trying to pull them out. Oh the drama. But the other morning, she fell asleep in my hand all curled up next to my chest, which pretty much means I'll love her forever.
A few other things I've discovered?
The chicks seem to prefer 90 degrees over the recommended 95, which made them pant....have you ever seen a chicken pant? It's one of those things that you really would think you wouldn't be able to recognize, until you see it, and then it's like, "Oh...yeah, they're panting."
They like to poop on me, in fact, they like to poop on everything....each other, their food, their water. And they make a huge show of it too, particularly Ingrid. She does a few loud cheeps, kicks up some pine shavings, nestles down in them all cozy, and then out comes the poo. Then all the others come look at it--the poop--and peck at it, and cheep their congratulations. It's thrilling, really.
Lastly, they're not all that crazy about outside yet. I brought them upstairs--they're currently living in the basement--to move them to a bigger box yesterday, and they let me know in no uncertain terms that they were displeased. Their old box was just cardboard, but I got them a clear, plastic tub yesterday afternoon. In addition to getting too small, the cardboard box didn't let any light in at all, and it seemed like they were having trouble telling night from day. When I went to check on them at noon they were all crashed out sleeping. Then again, maybe they're just having little chicken parties and not telling me....I'm just the crazy lady that keeps looking at their butts, after all!