Close call ... my fault

We lost one little chick the first night. About 5 or 6 had what is called "pasting up," which basically means they are constipated (who knew) and had to have their little butts wiped, by you-know-who. The Man was amused to see me wiping chicken butts with a warm towel, but after all, I've certianly wiped a few babies in my time! I think it was the pasting up that did that little chick in.

The rest all doing well, except for one little Plymouth Barred Rock, but he seems OK after a close call. With me. I was changing their bedding, which involves taking out the water and feeders and shooing them all to one end of the brooder (an old water tank) and rolling up the newspapers and straw, then replacing newspapers and straw and shooing them all to the other end, and repeating the process. During the cleaning, they all huddle up on one end, but once the food comes back, they crowd around like they've never seen food before, although it's only been gone about 2 minutes and it was full when I took it out. Anyhow, one of the feeders is a long trough with holes on the top for the chicks to poke their heads through to eat, and they crowded in and I sat the thing down, and stepped back to watch them. I watch for more pasted up butts (none this time) and just general behavior. In any event, I look closely, and I see I've put the feeder on top of a poor little chick! I pick up the feeder and I think I've killed the poor little thing. I poke at it, and it looks stunned, but struggles up and staggers around. It was only a minute, honest! In any event, we came home from some errands in town - I actually talked Paul into a short haircut! - and the little chick seems OK. Thankfully!