The Unbearable Cuteness of Being...

...Borned.

Our Lace Wyandotte has been sitting on her (well, someone's) eggs assiduously for the last 3 weeks.  Yesterday afternoon the first chick struggled its way out of its shell.  Here it is!  What kind of chicken will it be?  Hard to tell. The only rooster is a Lace Wyandotte, so all we know for sure is that it's at least half Wyandotte.  The poor mama--who also happens to be a Wyandotte--got supplanted on a couple of nests before we set her up in a brooder box with some hastily-gathered eggs; only one of those eggs may have been her own.  So all we can say for sure is that their daddy is a Wyandotte, and their mama was a Rock N Roll Band. I mean, some kind of chicken. Barred Rock, Orpington, Wyandotte, Brahma, Rhode Island Red...

And here is the mama regarding me suspiciously once I have put her little nugget back in the brooder box with her. It is going "Ehnnn!  Ehhhnnn!" jumping up and trying to burrow back under.  Unfortunately, 'jumping up' and 'burrowing under' are mutually exclusive. It is borned with great cuteness, fluff, and surprising mobility, but some things (difference between belly and neck?) just have to come with experience.