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This was a weekend of free cultural performance art and chickens.

We live in the Berkshires after all. World renowned art and country living go hand and hand. And man, it has me crushing so hard on our geography.

We spent our days cleaning and prepping the “Big Kid” chicken coop for the girls. And then yesterday afternoon, we made the transition from brooder to coop.

Everyone is still alive.

Conclusion: Transition success! That’s my bar. Not dead? Thumbs up!

It’s hard to believe that these chicks are going to nearly quadruple in size before they reach maturity. I already think that they are ginormous.

Sunny is positively obsessed with them. Particularly the Barred Rocks, as has been the ongoing narrative.

She palms them in one hand. Sings them lullabies. Offers kisses.

They are going to be the most mellow hens on Planet Earth thanks to all this handling.

Or the most traumatized. The verdict’s still out on that one.

In Sunny’s defense, we’re babysitting three of our friends’ chicks and in just four days time, James and I have noticed a marked difference in the birds’ personalities. They are far less skittish and cheerpy. Far easier to handle and hold.

Sunny, The Chicken Whisperer.

Now that we’ve made the big transition to the barn coop, we’ve got to wait 16 more weeks, FOUR MORE MONTHS, before we see our first farm fresh egg. Here’s hoping that the bar of “Not Dead” holds, eh?

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart