Maybe you think you don’t need a chick perch. After all, you’re happily married and you really wouldn’t know what to do with dozens of chicks hanging around your “roost.”
But if you’re like me, you’re always up for a little adventure, and adding seven baby chickens to the homestead probably sounds like a lot of fun and possibly completely necessary to keep you busy. Because ten ducks, seven quail, two goats, two frogs, a cat, three children, homeschooling, maintaining two blogs, petsitting the neighbor’s dog, and running a marketing company simply isn’t enough.
So you place your order and receive a box of chicks, all of which look more or less like balls of fluff:
You give them food and water, marvel over how much tidier they are than ducks, and watch them gradually get bigger and start to look less like fluff and more like chickens:
Actually, if they’re silkies like these, they won’t ever quite stop looking like balls of fluff. Even their legs will be covered in silkie feathers and they’ll go around forever looking like they’re wearing fuzzy slippers. And, they’ll always be easy to handle.
All of which, of course, does a great job showing off my cute chick pics while also failing utterly to answer your question: “Why the heck would I need a chick perch?”
Unless you’ve actually raised chicks, in which case the answer is obvious. Because you’ve noticed they like to climb.
Also, you are sick of them perching on the food dish and pooping in the food.
So, now that I’ve developed in your heart a burning need for a right-sized chick perch, I’m going to do the only friendly thing and tell you how you can quench your need in about fifteen minutes. Tuesday. Because I’ve been told my blog posts are way too long and anyway, by splitting them up I get to post two or three times as often for the same amount of work. That’s called efficiency.
P.S. If you’d like to be notified when the next part in the series appears, please subscribe to the blog using the button at the top right of the menu. This will also subscribe you to absolutely everything else I ever post here, but you can always unsubscribe if you get sick of me. But I hope you won’t. Unsubscribe, that is. I hope you will subscribe. Because the next two bits are really funny and one of them is actually somewhat useful. Plus, every time someone subscribes to my blog, a writer’s angel gets her wings. Or it makes me dance a little jig. One or the other.
P.P.S. It’s Tuesday! Or later. Which means you don’t get to practice patience right this minute. Sorry. The next step is now up on the blog here: Part 2 of 3