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CHICKEN STORIES
~~~Hello!~~~
~~~I'm going to set up this page to read like a blog--the most current events will be at the top of the page, or you can scroll all the way to the bottom and start at the beginning there.~~~
Hen Fight Outta Nowhere!
July 7, 2009
The other day Sugar, our Buff Laced Polish hen, suddenly became the target of Baby, our Kraienkoppe hen. Out of the blue, no reason that we could figure. Baby is broody and spends most of her time on the nest, but when she DID come off, she had a mission, it seems--to try and KILL Sugar.
We grabbed Sugar and brought her into the house to recover, but her face was so swollen that her eyes swelled shut and she was effectively blind for an entire day. She looked like a prize fighter, and the poor thing roamed around the house all day bumping into things. We gently sponged away the dirt and goop from around her eyes with a warm, wet cloth, then applied some cold compresses. Today she is improved, one eye is mostly open and she can see out of it, the other is about 1/3 open but the skin around it is still quite swollen. Her targeting is off though, she tends to peck to the left of whatever she's trying to eat.
Hopefully by tomorrow she'll be able to go back outside, at which time I'll have to isolate Baby and break her of her brood so she'll calm down. Doing that isn't easy or fun, she'll have to go into the 'hen pen'--an isolation cage--by herself for days.
Chicken jail, essentially.
Two Things I Never Expected, Both On The Same Day!
July 3, 2009
The first was when Millie, our 6 year old diminutive Belgian d'Uccle MilleFleur hen, who is a great grandmother by the way...started crowing yesterday. This heartily confused Phoenix and Scott, our two roosters, who wondered where the Hell the new guy was, and started crowing back. It confused me, too. I thought for sure that someone had dumped an unwanted rooster over our fence. Why she started this nonsense at her age is a mystery. I think just to mess with the roos.
The other thing was the little fledgling mockingbird baby that was sitting next to my back gate yesterday morning. Not only could it not fly, but it had a broken leg--thanks to the length of thread wrapped around it's leg. It is now safely esconced in a cage in my kitchen...the number of birds in the house right now was at 'LOL' level, then went to 'OMG' and is now officially at 'WTF'. It is eating well and has a blue painters tape splint on it's leg, which hopefully will help it heal at least pointed in the correct direction.
We are trying to settle on a name for this one, for however long we have it. Here it is:
Is that NOT the cutest little fuzzy head ever? I have no idea if it is a male or female, but it adapted to us pretty quickly and eats very well. I figured it is about 1 1/2 to 2 weeks old. We handfeed it every hour during the day up until about 9PM, it gets a mixture of all-purpose baby bird food, human baby food of strained meat, same with a vegetable, plain yogurt and a hard-boiled egg yolk. As soon as it's eating on it's own, it will get something similar but a bit chunkier, plus live mealworms.
Now we just need interesting sounds to teach it!
Ex-Battery Hen Update
June 23, 2009
Sora and Bridgette are doing well out with the flock. The first day was full of much posturing and chest bumping with the established hens, and some downright neck grabbing by the top hens, who felt they needed to REALLY drive their point home. We intervened, gently...pushing them apart and petting and praising them for NOT fighting. This seemed to work for the most part and today all was peaceful.
But poor Sora and Bridgette have NO idea how to roost on perches, and need to be placed there in the evening. They HAVE learned where the coop (and the food) is, so they can get in and out of it with ease. Today was sun and dust bath heaven. No eggs from either one yet, though they have peeked in the nest boxes.
Bridgette is growing new feathers at great speed, and is getting more talkative. Today she saw a cat on the fence and threw a cackling fit that several other hens took up. Sora is much more quiet and laid back, a true California girl. Both girls are very attached to each other and stick together constantly. They have learned that when we appear it means good things like food & pets, so they come running. Sora loves to be picked up and petted, but Bridgette not so much--she'll come running up to us, but due to her prickly state is NOT all that hot on being touched. We expected this, so we'll just give her time to get those new feathers out. She'll be a beauty once she does!
And So My Kid Has A Cause...
June 20, 2009
...and it's to rescue ex-battery hens.
This all happened quite suddenly the other day, when I came across a funny YouTube video to share with her about a rooster. She loves stuff like this, so we looked at a few others as well.
This one, 'A Battery Hen's Hope' is what got to all of us--it's heartbreaking and touching all at the same time, and represents just one bird out of thousands:
After N. saw it, and I had to explain to her the concept of battery cages in egg farms and how and why animals are housed that way, she was OUTRAGED, and rightly so.
Having to explain the worst parts of society and humankind as a whole, is one of the worst and hardest things you will ever have to do as a parent, by the way. Forget about the 'birds & bees' talk, that's a breeze. Watching her faith in humanity 'doing the right thing' die in your childs' eyes as you explain corporate cruelty is heartrending. The fact that this type of 'animals are disposable' thinking is commonplace and accepted by both producer and consumers is even harder.
So OK, the kid now wants to stage a rescue and save ALL of the battery hens on Earth. I explain to her that unfortunately this just isn't possible, but people DO try...then she realizes that she has seen ex-battery hens at the feed store!
C'mon mom, off to the feed store! Never mind that it's 8:30 at night and the feed store is closed.
Well, we have to go to the feed store the next day anyway to get chicken feed, so I agree to look at the ex-battery hens then.
Ha. 'Look'. Right...
So here they are, our two adoptees:
Bridgette, a sweet, curious, talkative Red Star who has suffered the loss of most of her feathers and has been de-beaked:
and Sora, a camera-shy White Leghorn who has been at the feed store long enough to grow some of her feathers back:
Neither of them had ANY idea what table scraps were, but are quite docile and quiet. Bridgette has quite a bit of trouble eating with part of her beak gone, but I'm hoping it'll grow back eventually. Both of them spent last night and today in the house, we're medicating and worming them right away since I'm pretty sure that egg farms don't care a whole lot about keeping individual birds healthy long-term.
Names For Chicks!
June 13, 2009
It's been decided: The large reddish chick is Voodoo, the darker brown one is Moxie, the smaller one with the fluffier cheeks and downward-pointed tail is Bug, and the bantam is Flash.
Flash is pretty darned uppity and may be a roo, while Bug is very calm and sweet, she wants to be held a lot. Voodoo is all Bear, and Moxie fits her name perfectly--very daring!
Maggie Is Dead...
June 12, 2009
...thanks to my vet of 10 years. She had a straightforward oral fungus growth in her mouth, which his office seemingly deliberately undermedicated--we'd run out of the medication in 3 days (normal course of treatment for something like this is 7-14 days), they'd make us come BACK in for another office visit + more medication (both charged for). Rinse, repeat, repeat... Five visits & charges in less than 10 days. The last bottle of medication, he cut her dose by 3/4 and we STILL ran out in 6 days, so she never had a chance. It's all about money, I guess. They've succeeded in draining my bank account AND killing their patient.
Maggie suffered horribly with this crap and died of starvation, despite me handfeeding her night and day. The day she died, I went into their office and sat in the waiting room, being ignored (they hoped I'd give up and go away, I guess) for three hours, Maggie on my lap the entire time. It was bizarre to say the least, as I've always been on good terms with that office. The vet was acting VERY strangely.
Good job, guys.
Enjoy your correspondence from the licensing board.
So Far...
May 24, 2009
Four chicks! I'm actually kinda surprised at this, since I had candled the Polish eggs and they were universally duds. I'm going to have to convince my roos boys that those are GIRLS. Same with the Silkie hens though, poor babies.
So far we have 2 Bear/Phoenix chicks, 1 Skitters or Giblets/Phoenix chick, and 1 blonde Baby(?)/Scott chick. The Bear and Skitters babies show the Americaunas chipmunk stripe markings, and the Skitters baby also has nice feathered feet. Both of the Bear chicks had to be helped from their eggs a bit, a combination of HUGE chick and tough egg membrane--Bear lays VERY strong eggs! Come to think of it, we had to assist Bear during HER hatching, as well, she was so big.
They are all quite cute and fluffy, of course. :)
Also, it is 3:30AM and I am quite, quite, quite tired after midwifing baby chicks all day.
HATCHING HAS BEGUN!
May 22, 2009
Wow, two days early! So far we have one egg pipping and peeping, another is peeping and rocking back and forth. There are 12 eggs in the incubators, links to the cam are here, click and scroll to the bottom of the page for the links:
http://jackshenhouse.com/VSChickLinksCHICKAM.htm
The webcam is giving us some trouble and isn't up yet, but it will be soon!
The Countdown...
May 21, 2009
...is on! I gave the eggs in the incubator their final turn last night, topped off the water, culled the undeveloped eggs and shifted the remaining 12 eggs to one incubator--the one with the forced air fan. All of the eggs are dark green and too dark to candle except two--a light shelled egg and a light brown egg, both with definitely a chick inside.
Meanwhile, the 5 remaining eggs out under the hens are too dark to candle--except one, which looks to have a chick inside but is also horribly cracked. I chose to leave it be under the hens to give it a chance. Two eggs are under Moet, a buff Frizzle Cochin who has raised chicks before and three are under Bear, our Easter Egger Head Hen. Moet got the cracked one since she is smaller, lighter and more gentle than Bear. When hatch day comes, we'll either put all of the eggs under one hen or leave them be with Moet & Bear--but the mama(s) & eggs will be transferred to a brooder box in the house for the hatching. I'm hoping the hen's eggs hatch, as Moet REALLY screeched at me and pecked me HARD (which she never does) when I checked under her tonight. Hopefully that's a good sign that she knows they are viable.
If any of the incubator eggs hatch, they will be added to the mama hen's chicks, since hens can't count. The way to do it safely is to slip them under her at night, while removing the unhatched eggs at the same time.
Hatch day is in two days, on Sunday. By tomorrow afternoon we should be seeing eggs rock and hearing chicks peep if anything is going to happen. When that occurs, the webcam will start!
Oh, For--!
May 17, 2009
So we are now UP to 10 broody hens in the coop, and DOWN to 6 eggs under them. They cracked another egg this morning, I think due to fighting and shoving over who gets to set on them.
I'm thinking from now on of isolating a hen or two with all of the eggs, and letting them set in peace. I'm doubting that any of the current eggs under the hens will hatch due to all of this. We'll see.
I See Baby Chicks Starting!
May 13, 2009
Some of the eggs are clear--the Polish ones--but others have embryos starting, hurrah! And in BOTH incubators! Can the real culprit be as simple as 'too many eggs in the incubators'? And if it really DOES end up being a '12-20 at the MOST' deal for the incubators, why does Miller Manufacturing say you can place 46 eggs per incubator? The humidity & temps feel MUCH better, too.
Hmmm.... Now if we can only keep the eggs going and get them to hatch--!
As for the broody hens outside...we now have EIGHT hens that have gone broody, including Bear, our Head Hen. I think they've realized that we are leaving eggs for them to hatch and they're all trying to horn in on the action. Bear has succeeded in taking over one nest with three of the eggs, while four other hens are setting two to a nest and have the remaining 4 eggs split up between them. At least the paired off ladies are being nice enough to share an egg apiece. I do think that when hatch time comes, we'll either choose one hen (likely Bear) for mama and give her all of the eggs, or just go with two of the ones who have paired up. I hate to deprive the others of their eggs, but they have already broken three of the initial eggs we set under them by fighting over them, and I don't want to shift things around again just yet and have it start up again.
Two weeks to go!
Once More Into The Breach!
May 3, 2009
Into the incubators, actually. AND hens! Since we've got about 6 of the girls who have gone broody (the coop is a Terror Zone for the other chickens, who dash in, lay their eggs and LEAVE), I've set 5 eggs each under Moet, who has raised chicks before and is an excellent mama and Zevon/Splash--two sisters who are brooding together and get along well. Splash and Zevon have peacefully divided up their 5 eggs--Splash has three, Zevon has 2. Moet is a Frizzle buff Cochin, Zevon is a Frizzle Cochin mix and Splash is a nice large, plump bantam of mixed heritage. These eggs will be my test--if the hens can't hatch them either, I'll know it's not my incubators or me who is at fault. I know a lot of our girls are older, so it could be affecting the hatch--but then we've got a lot of young girls, too. It's a mystery...
In the two incubators, we've drastically cut the number of eggs and will have only 20 eggs in each one. Each set of eggs is numbered 1-20 and marked with an X on one side and an O on the other, in order to track which ones have been turned. They'll get turned at least three times a day. The new incubator has been upgraded with a forced-air fan to better circulate the air around the eggs, the old incubator has a new thermostat. I'm also going with leaving all the red ventilation plugs in on both incubators in hopes of raising the humidity, which has been a real bear to get and keep to where it is supposed to be.
We'll start the eggs at 6PM tonight, which should give us a hatch date of 5-23-09--the day before Memorial Day!
Yup...
April 24, 2009
I think we've been skunked by both incubators. :( This morning at 9:30 was the official hatch time, but so far no movement or peeping out of ANY of the eggs in either incubator.
We'll leave the eggs in for three days beyond the hatch, just in case, but I doubt if any are going to hatch at this rate.
This is SO disappointing. I've now been turning eggs for the last 6 weeks, three times a day and I don't mind saying I'm sick of it. But we'll try again...once I've talked to Miller Manufacturing, the makers of the incubators, and installed both the forced air fan and electronic thermostat.
I'm also considering giving some of those broody girls out back some eggs to hatch, as a test.
Sigh...
April 17, 2009
I just candled about 1/3 of the eggs in each of the incubators--they are at about 15 days. Some were clear, others showed developed but possibly dead embryos, others had mysterious dark masses that may/may not be chicks, while still others were too darned dark-shelled to see through!
And just because Mother Nature does LOVE her little jokes on me, I now have SIX broody banty hens out in the coop, all dying to hatch eggs and obviously MUCH better at it than me.
Bleah, I've been hand-turning eggs for nearly 6 weeks now non-stop. SOMETHING BETTER HATCH.
Once More, With Feeling!
April 14, 2009
Or, just the correct temperature and humidity.
The incubators are once again full of eggs. I started them yesterday morning at 9AM, so they are due to hatch on Friday, April 24th.
I think I've solved the temperature and humidity issue, by dint of a two hour scouring of the Internet. I finally found someone who was having the same problem I was back in 2004, they had posted on some obscure forum and gotten a response--someone suggested leaving in BOTH of the red ventilation plugs throughout the incubation period, only removing one of them the last three days of the hatch if needed. I had foolishly been following the manufacturer's advice and removing one of the plugs at the beginning!
This time, I experimented by running the incubators for three days before I inserted the eggs. I left both plugs in and tested those suckers for 36 hours--absolutely, dead on, STABLE! Not even a hint of a flutter in that time, night or day! Yay, success!
So now the eggs are on their way, 31 in each of the two incubators. They are sitting, side by side, on my kitchen island. The new incubator:
And the old one:
Included inside are 13 Serama eggs, tiny little things about the size of a quarter. The chicks are the size of a 9 volt battery, the adults the size of a can of Coke. :) A very kind friend on a farming forum, who breeds Seramas sent them to me via mail. Chickam will be up and running as soon as we see eggs rocking or hear chicks peeping inside the eggs. They'd better hatch, as my daughter is using them for her Science Fair project--!
Failure...
March 25, 2009
So the hatch was a 100% failure, boo. :( We are going to try again, after conferring with other chicken people. The incubator will be outfitted with a new electronic thermostat and a forced-air fan unit, and relocated back in the kitchen. I find it hard to believe that moving the thing about 8 feet would make such a total difference, but...well...we DID get some chicks hatch last year when we did that!
The thermostat on the incubator proved VERY unreliable this time around, fluctuating wildly between 102 and 98 degrees...with the optimum temp of 99.5 degrees being very hard to maintain. Even with checking it often, we can't be sure if hours passed during the day when we were gone, or night while we were sleeping with the temp at a chick-killing too high or too low.
At any rate, the eggs will remain in the incubator until Thursday the 26th, in order to catch any late bloomers. If none hatch, we'll try again. J. says he wants to take the old incubator and try to install a better, more reliable thermostat in it so we'll try with that one.
Still time to hatch chicks for the kids' Science Fair project, so all is good, still.
Annnnnd They're Off!
March 2, 2009
Twenty-one days and counting till Chickam2009!
Here are this years' 50 contenders for 'Who Will Hatch First?'!
The blue thing is a Water Weasel, which holds the probe for the digital thermometer--it acts as an artificial egg and is a way for us to gauge the temp INSIDE the eggs, which makes for a much more accurate reading. The thing with the digital readout on the right is a hygrometer, which measures humidity--it has to be at a certain levels at various times during the hatch. It has a thermometer, too, but it isn't as accurate as the digital one with the probe. The eggs are numbered so that you can cheer on your favorite!
The eggs are due to hatch on March 23rd, but Chickam will start the day before, on March 22nd in order to catch any early hatches. You can see and hear it live soon here--two spots in case one or the other goes down:
No chat, kid-safe:
http://www.stickam.com/chickam2008/
With moderated chat but we advise adult supervision since we can't control what other people say, but we will be answering questions here:
http://www.justin.tv/chickam2008/
How do hens manage this without all these gadgets?!
Hi Tech Meets Old School!
February 24, 2009
It's Nest Boxes 2.0!
Old style wooden boxes on the bottom, recycled computer monitor cases on top.
Seems the hens approve!
Chickam Is Coming!
February 22, 2009
Run for your lives! Ha...
The chickens are getting right properly twitterpated and are in high barnyard dramaqueen overdrive, running around this way and that, having little chicken-y romances. It's cute. :)
So this week we'll start up Chickam (with sound!) again, beginning with the cam pointed at the nest boxes, so ya might catch eggs being laid. Also, check out the new, high-tech nest boxes. :) The hens lay mostly in the morning, about 8AM to 2PM, peaking around 10AM PST. Some of it might be like watching paint dry, but seeing a hen lay an egg is interesting. The youngsters from last year's Chickam (Honkey, Scrambles and Potato) are adults now, and are laying eggs too.
I plan on setting up the incubators later this week, and starting the eggs on February 27--hatch date should be 21 days later, on March 20th--the first day of Spring! The incubator cam will be turned on the day before hatch, March 20th. At that point you should be able to see the eggs wobble and hear the chicks inside peeping. After the hatch, the cam will be moved to the brooder box so y'all can see and hear baby chicks running around like ninnyhammers. It's cool, watching eggs hatch is fascinating! :)
I'll post links to the cams when they are up and running!
Fun Fact: While a hen goes and SITS on a nest in order to lay and egg, while she is actually LAYING the egg she stands up!
Kids...
December 24, 2008
Mine just came slamming in from the backyard, where she's been playing, trying to get a few outdoor hours logged before the rain starts, and burning off the 'TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS!' energy. She goes out and plays with the chickens, who are by now used to her running up and just scooping them up for hugs and kisses, and patiently submit--even Phoenix, our huge rooster. Some of her favorites are Potato, Scrambles and Honkey, the youngsters from the June hatch this year.
So when she came in just now she yelled, "Hey mom, guess what? I just kissed Potato on the mistletoe!" Then she was gone again, with another slam of the back door.
My response, a full 3 seconds later: "What...?"
Heh. Kids!
Weird Nesting Spot #176 Or; Oh, Come ON!
November 17, 2008
The chickens have outdone themselves this year on finding odd nesting sites to hide eggs in. Sometimes we spot them right away, other times we don't. Mostly it's the banties that pull this stunt, being more savvy then their heavier laying hen sisters.
What's this? Why, it's the 'green waste' trash can, stuffed full to overflowing this week! A couple of branches that didn't quite fit are sticking out and propping the lid open a bit, but surely THAT won't cause any issues, will it now?
Will it? Wait--what's that...?
Arrgghhh! Of course, a hidden nest that is SO perfect, four of the little buggers had to lay there. Those are rock-hard Carrotwood seed pods, too.
Heck, that's nuthin'. The day before Halloween we found THIS gem, tucked away in a pot of aquarium gravel I'd just put out after transferring N.'s monster goldfish to their new tank:
The gravel was still wet, for crying out loud!
But for sheer esoteric beauty, my personal favorite is this one from August:
While we were making the new chicken run, we set our tools on top of the rabbit hutch to keep them out of the kid's reach. The banties (once again) decided that the wooden top of a rabbit hutch, out in the open, in a bunch of zip ties was PERFECTION ITSELF.
I just liked the swirly pattern they created.
Barnyard Politics...
November 4, 2008
The kid is all excited about elections after her yearly trip with me to the polling place. So she's having a 'Chicken Election' this afternoon in the back yard.
The candidates?
Bu-cawk Obama and John Buck-cain.
Group Shot...
June 28, 2008
Here are our baker's dozen!
We have one Frizzle for sure, the light gray bird at the right side.
Good & Bad...
June 19, 2008
Good: One of the eggs in the incubator is pipping, 48 hours early! Hopefully the chick is formed enough to survive, and we're working on moving the cam over to the incubator & off the 25 day old chicks. There are 50 eggs in this batch, and candling the other day showed that some were clear (never developed), some had shells too dark to tell, and others had dark masses inside that meant chicks--alive or dead, we cannot tell.
We're back to Stickam for this hatch:
http://www.stickam.com/chickam2008/
Bad: We just lost one of our favorite hens, Beast, to some damned mystery illness that stumped us, our fellow chicken owner friends, AND our vet. Best he could say was it was something bacterial in nature. Seems no amount of Lasix and Baytril could save her, and the best I could do was to pet her, talk to her and be with her as she went. Meanwhile, Louise and Houdini, who caught it first and were some deathly ill, have recovered and are fine.
This is extra depressing since yesterday Beast had turned a corner and was walking around the house, talking and eating up a storm on her own, we felt we just needed to fatten her up a bit and she'd be fine. :(
Letting Mother Nature Throw In, Too
April 11, 2008
In addition to the eggs in the incubator, which are due to hatch in another two weeks, we have two broody hens that we gave some eggs to, also. Their eggs are due to hatch today...nothing yet as of nearly 2PM, but today or tomorrow should see some tiny balls of fluff. Here they are in the custom hen pen that J. made, which we moved inside the enclosed run the other day:
This way, they are protected by the walls of the run and protected again from any jealous hens who may try and take over the chicks or just plain fight the moms. Boots is on the left with two eggs, Moet is on the right with three eggs. Each got their own fancy cardboard box nest. Hopefully these two moms can share the space, if not, one of them will have to be removed and the remaining broody hen will take charge of all 5 chicks--provided the eggs hatch!
Moet has been growling at me since yesterday when we moved her and Boots into the hen pen, I think she's SURE I'm going to mess with her eggs again. Whatever the reason, I'm on her Sh*t List!
Here We Go Again...
April 6, 2008
It's been a couple of years since we hatched baby chickens and I couldn't resist any longer, so I dusted off the incubator. The candidates to choose from:
...and the final group, 45 assorted eggs:
If I was sure of the mom, I wrote their name on their eggs. The green and blue ones are various Americaunas/Americaunas mix eggs, the small ones are bantam eggs, white ones are Polish, the large brown ones Buff Orpington, New Hampshire and Kriaenkoppe eggs, 45 eggs total. The 'X' marks are a marker they all get, an X on one side and a O on the other, so you can tell at a glance at egg turning time (three times a day) which ones you have turned and which you haven't.
In three weeks I'll post pictures of the hatch!
Two For One Sale On Chicken Emergencies, Aisle 3!
March 21, 2008
So yesterday afternoon, we had not one, but TWO hens appear on the back step with dire health issues...one was Houdini, a small gray and white bantam hen, who had managed to rip off one toenail and was bleeding pretty good. She had the sense to come and stand and bleed on the back porch so I'd see her, and let me pick her up and bring her in to clean it up and apply Kwik-Stop, a birdie coagulant. We get her fixed up and close her up in the bathroom for a bit until the she is OK to go outside again without reopening the wound, and return out back again to finish feeding the animals and putting them away.
Then I see Chicken Sister, the surviving VERY elderly buff cochin bantam hen twin, standing in one place, facing the garage door. I do the 'Food' call, and she doesn't move.
Crap.
Go over to look at her and see her do the trademark 'eggbound hen' strain. DAAAAMMMNNNN!!! At age 8 or 10 years (we got her and her twin sister as adults in 2001), she's way too old for this egg-laying nonsense. I can see the egg crowning when she pushes, but it ain't comin' out any time soon.
Grab her and truck HER into the house, for nasty egg binding treatment, which involves me oiling up a finger and getting personally acquainted with her most holy of holies, something which dignified old ladies like her do NOT approve of. The egg is stubborn, so she gets to spend the night on the kitchen floor on a heating pad in hopes of her laying the egg herself. Meanwhile, Houdini has ceased bleeding and is allowed to return to the flock.
This morning, Chicken Sister still has not produced the egg and is straining harder with a pained squeak, and no amount of oiling/coaxing by pressing with my fingers is moving that egg, so off to the vet we go.
Pop! He gets that egg out in under two seconds.
Everyone at the vets' office loves to see the chickens, though, I guess it's a break from dogs and cats all day long. Tonight Chicken Sister is again in the house so we can keep and eye on her and she can rest, tomorrow she should be able to return to the flock.
Weird Nesting Site #213
March 13, 2008
Today it was Millie, taking advantage of some stuff earmarked for garage storage...
She's actually tiny enough to fit into the Christmas tree stand, so I'm sure I'll find an egg in here later.
Poking around to make sure it's good enough for her egg...
Whoops, watch the footing--!
Whoa, whoa, WHOA!!! OK, be cool...
Hmmm... that foot must have something wrong with it, I never lose my balance...
Meanwhile, Stoney, a little banty hen, took the more mundane approach of actually using a nest box, although she DID have to growl and warn off Boots, who was looking to oust her.
The Darling Buds Of...March!
March 7, 2008
Spring has sprung, here at our house. Geraldine the tortoise is fully awake and chases you down to see if you are doing Something Interesting, the chickens are in full cackling crazed-egg-laying mode, and the flowers are doing their thing...
Ha, it's like a game of 'Which Does Not Belong?' The hens sometimes produce these tiny eggs in the Spring when their egg laying apparatus is gearing up.
Oh Boy, Mom's Got Grassy Shoes!
March 2, 2008
Yesterday we gave the front lawn it's first mowing since reseeding and fertilizing it a month ago. Turns out we actually timed the seed and food right, for a change, and got it down just before tons of rain scattered off and on, perfect to make the thing grow like mad.
I went out back last evening to relax and get in a little quality chicken time before dark. As I sat in a chair, I suddenly had a huge group of chickens clustered around my feet, all eager to clean the bits of cut grass off my shoes. Sadly, I'd cleaned my shoes very well before walking though the house, so there wasn't much.
Cue unhappy chicken noises from a bunch of SPOILED birds.
So; dorky, easily-controlled-human me goes out front again to walk aimlessly around on the front lawn, doing my best to collect lots of yummy grass bits on my shoes again. I only got one strange look from one of the neighbors, so I count it as a success.
Out back again, this time I grabbed the camera on the way through the house. The gentle pecking from all those beaks was a weird feeling...
Yum, Mom's got Grassy Shoes, my favorite!
The New Run Is Finished!...
January 16, 2008
After many months of building, the new chicken run is finally done and housing the chickens nicely! Here are two pictures of the old coop before:
And the area where the new run was attached to the existing coop, which was left in place.
I had to give up my clothesline area temporarily.
The new run's framework is tubular steel, which used to be a canopy over our patio. A windstorm pretty much took care of the canopy one night, leaving the steel skeleton. So we recycled it!
Unfortunately one of our elderly little bantam hens, Chicken Sister (she used to have a twin sister, hence her name) in this shot has fallen into the trench we dug to bury the hardware cloth below ground in. She was looking over her shoulder at me taking the picture when she SHOULD have been watching where she was going. This is her doing her impersonation of a chicken pancake, poor baby. Only her dignity was hurt, though.
Everyone enjoyed the freshly dug dirt, to a chicken this is irresistable.
The hardware cloth going up...
...and the doorway is framed in. Sheet metal connects the existing cinder block fence to the canopy framework. We didn't use wire here in order to reduce drafts.
The corrugated steel roof going on. J. used steel 2x4's and sprayed in expansion foam to help seal any openings.
The view from the inside. Where the sheets of hardware cloth met, J. overlapped them by several inches and I secured the gaps with UV resistant heavy duty zip ties to keep out rodents, possums, etc.
A better look at the sheet metal, which was bolted to the cinderblock fence.
The interior of the roof, steel 2 x 4s were staggered.
Inside again, looking towards the old coop. We left the old coop as it was and just removed a wire panel off the front of it to create the opening into the new run. The old coop door we closed securely and left as it was.
A better view of the old coop opening and how old and new connect to each other.
The wire panel removed and the nest boxes rearranged. You can see the expansion foam in place in the ceiling. Even my daughter's bunny had to check it out!
Done!
More From The OC Fair...
August 18, 2007
Before I forget, a few more pics from the Orange County Fair, now gone for another year...
We visited the show chickens the day they were there, and ran across this unlikely duo:
While the Polish rooster on the right is obviously smitten and very much in love, the Quail Bantam hen is having none of it, she is all fluffed up and flared out, and by her repeated growls we could tell she would like nothing better than to have a go at this nervy fellow.
Those Quail bantams DID have damned cute, fluffy faces though, and now I have ANOTHER breed to add to my 'want' list:
She looks like a stuffed toy, I swear.
Bye, Liz...
August 3, 2007
Just a little while ago, Elizabeth left us.
This is Liz cooling off on a hot day. We were forced to buy Elizabeth, a Jersey Giant hen, BY Elizabeth one day in 2003 when we went to the feed store. Liz ran over from across the pen and chased after us up and down the fence, staring at us and crying until we gave in. It was weird, her whole attitude was one of, "Where have you BEEN?! I've been waiting and waiting!". We couldn't resist those great, dark, melting eyes though. Liz was extremely sweet and friendly, calm and never mean. She was polite and had excellent manners. She sported beautiful greenish-black feathers and black legs, and laid many truly huge dark brown eggs. We lost her daughter, Rita, earlier this year but Elizabeth's granddaughter, Skitters, is still with us.
She was lovely old girl and we'll miss her.
Damn, She Was One Of My Favorites
May 8, 2007
Rita in the back, Poof peeking in on the left.
Rita was a feisty, headstrong little Cochin/Jersey Giant mix that we hatched ourselves back in 2003. She was one of my favorites and whenever I sat down out back, would come RUNNING over as fast as she could waddle (cochins aren't built for speed) to sit in my lap--and woe betide any other chicken that wanted equal lap time! Rita would warn them off right away. She would sit in my lap for as long as I would let her, and complained loudly when I set her down again. Often I'd have Rita on one knee, Babs on the other--Babs was a gift from Fingle's household, and Babs thinks she is still a baby chick and insists on sitting on your lap with her head rammed in your armpit--under your wing, as it were. Rita had a habit of at the last minute, sticking her head into pictures we tried to take of the other chickens. The end result was like bad vacation snapshots. So it's kind of fitting that in the photo above, Poof is doing it to her.
Rita died yesterday. I don't even know what killed her. Granted, it was nearly 100 degrees yesterday, our first really hot day this year. I had gone out like I always do on hot days to hose off the chickens and yard to keep things cooler for the animals. I had gone out at 8:30AM, 10:30AM and 12:30PM. Everything was fine. I even stopped to talk to her and pet her and all was well. At 2PM when I went again to hose things off, we found her in the coop, sitting in the corner as if to lay an egg and breathing a bit hard. Since she was distressed (we thought by the heat), we brought her in to cool off. She died less than 5 minutes later. She had been eating, drinking and carrying on normally up until then. I don't know what's worse--having an animal get ill and die slowly or go quickly like that.
Rita was one of those animals that 'picked out her human'--she chose ME as her favorite human first, not the other way around. Rita's mother, Elizabeth, is elderly but still with us, and Rita's daughter, Skitters, is twice as feisty and psycho as Rita ever was. Even Moet, our very elderly Frizzle Cochin who was Rita's foster mama, is still with us.
This is Rita as a baby, back in 2003.
Last night when I went out to sit with the chickens in the evening, Rita's mother, Liz, jumped up in my lap and sat with me a while.
She's never done that before. I appreciated it.
Indoor Egg Hunt, Again...
March 22, 2007
After suffering a setback which involved her darting out underneath the running feet of N. and getting stepped on, Maggie has bounced back. She is now back to the point of standing and hopping again, and seems to be settling in as Housechicken Supreme. She's got the routine down. We put her out in her little run during the day but she spends the night in the kitchen. Maggie has discovered (to our endless amusement) that owing to the slickness of the linoleum floor, she can get around quicker and easier if she flaps her wings madly and does her little hippity-hop run simultaneously, thus zooming about the kitchen. It looks like chicken ice skating. Maggie has adjusted well, and has learned that there is a lesser chance of N. stepping on her if she sensibly stays put on her towel in the evenings.
But the other day it was raining, and since she is still sitting most of the time, Maggie had to stay inside.
Cue loud, unhappy chicken howls. Lots of them. From a BIG hen.
I did open the sliding glass door a bit so she could at least socialize with the other chickens who were huddled on the back porch. THEY howled because it was cold and wet outside, and Maggie was dry and warm INSIDE. I mostly yelled back for EVERYONE to shut up, already.
After a bit I went out to the living room to fold laundry, and listened to Maggie whine and move about restlessly. I knew what THAT meant, but didn't really have anything for her to lay her egg in or on--besides, no matter how nice of a nest you make for a chicken trapped indoors, they will inevitably choose their OWN nesting spot.
She did, finally, here she is giving me a dirty look:
Under my desk. She did manage to pull over a file folder and scatter it's contents, but that was easily picked up later on.
Hopping Hens Here!
February 9, 2007
To borrow a phrase from one of our favorite PBS children's shows, 'Between The Lions'.
Maggie is improving, and has graduated from full-time Housechicken to part-time backyard flock member--she still comes indoors at night.
She hops/limps with loud 'thud's around the kitchen in the evening and still sits a lot, but is definetely on the mend. We are pretty sure it was a fracture in her hip or thigh, and the only thing to do is allow her to heal unmolested--hence the custom hen condo that J. whipped together last weekend. This keeps her safely isolated from overzealous roosters and jealous hens who might reinjure her.
Sigh...isn't this leg EVER going to get better?
We figure another week or so of this nonsense and we'll be able to reintegrate her into the flock, which will involve some intervention on our part with any of the hens that decide they want to pick a fight with her and knock her down a peg or two in the pecking order.
That's a whole 'nother story though--chickens have a rigid sense of caste--their flock's pecking order. Who is Head Hen and Head Roo, who is Beta, and so on down the line. Older laying hens are usually at the top, followed by younger laying hens and bantams, then at the bottom are newcomers and youngsters. Whenever we introduce new birds to our flock we hold what we call 'Meet & Greets'. That is where we bring the new bird out into the yard and set it down on the ground, right at our feet. The other chickens will come around and trash talk at the new bird and once in a while puff themselves up and try to peck the new bird. That's when we step in and growl threateningly at them and chase them off a bit, just like a mother hen would protect her chicks. We are, in essence, letting them know that 'this is MY baby, and under MY protection!' and we have a zero tolerance policy towards pecking them. Since we humans are the head of the flock, the other flock members usually catch on pretty quick that our 'baby' is not to be messed with and retreat, grumbling disgustedly. We've found if we do this for about 20 minutes for a couple of days, we can then release the new birds into the flock for good with far less butt kicking and chicken-y angst.
Chickens have amazingly complex emotions, which in turn often leads to soap opera-like drama.
Meet Maggie...
January 9, 2007
Maggie is a LARGE New Hampshire breed hen. She is the classic 'Little Red Hen', except Maggie weighs in at around 6-8 pounds. Maggie was a freebie from the feed store (they know we are softies and take all their injured birds) about a year and a half ago. She has a bad left leg, which although it supports her and she runs for food just fine, thank you, has a set of curled-up toes. She can move her toes, they just don't unfurl into the classic chicken foot shape. It hasn't slowed her down or hindered her abilities in any way, and she has been a fine little (ok, HUGE) hen.
The other day I found Maggie sitting under one of the bushes at feeding time. She didn't come running for dinner like the others, so automatically I knew something was wrong, and suspected the bad leg. Bingo. She doesn't want to stand up or put weight on it. We hope it's just temporary, a slight injury that will heal in a few days. So into the house she came, placed on an old towel in the kitchen with food and water nearby.
That was 4 days ago, and she has since learned to gracefully endure N. running around, me washing dishes right next to her (she talks to me while I work) and us throwing things away in the trash can right next to her. For this she is duly rewarded with assorted treats, lots of pets and attention. She has learned all about The Big White Foodbox and that when humans open it goodies come forth, and how to whine plaintively if she somehow gets forgotten.
In return, Maggie has gifted us with 4 lovely large brown eggs, laid right there on her towel with a little clucking, muttering and talking. We do our bit and praise and pet her, properly admiring the egg before we put it in the egg basket. We've let Phoenix, the Head Rooster, in to visit with her a couple of times so that she doesn't get too lonely and the other chickens don't start crying for her. Maggie likes it when she has company and eats and drinks better when there are others in the room eating and drinking--chicken or human, doesn't make any difference to her. A flock is a flock. We were hoping that it was an egg pressing on a nerve that was causing the leg problem, as happens sometimes, but after the fourth egg was laid we figured it must be an injury after all. Now Maggie is standing sometimes and shakily putting weight on the leg, while staring at it in irritation, so she's making progress. Meanwhile she's been a better houseguest than most humans, and is playing the 'dignified old dame' part well.
Time will tell!
Two Went This Time...
August 28, 2006
We lost two of our hens this week, two days apart.
Helen
Cutie
It was sheer coincidence that they both fell ill at the same time, with two seperate problems. Usually we can dampen or even cure most chicken ailments with our arsenal of preparations, books and online help from friends. This time we knew right away that it was time to take them to the vet, so we did.
It wasn't good news.
Helen had Proventriculitis. It's an inflammation or blockage of the proventriculus (stomach) of a bird. Sometimes you can nail down a cause such as an obvious blockage or a mycotoxin, but usually its cause is a frustrating mystery; which was true in Helens' case. She got sick and died within two days, and the vet told us surgery was not an option, just to take her home and make her comfortable. He gave us meds to try just in case, he's a softie when it comes to chickens.
Helen was the only daughter of Jack, our beloved Barred Rock rooster of many years. She was a very calm girl except at feeding time, when she would YELL. She has a brother, Phoenix, who is currently our Head Rooster.
The other hen was Cutie. Cutie was so named because she habitually would look up at you with a cute little tilt to her head, as in her picture. Cutie contracted a fungal condition known as Favus, which caused her face to start peeling. It was several days before we could nail down what was going on, but both Cutie and Helen were given antibiotics and an antifungal from the vet. Despite our dosing them and handfeeding them every 30 minutes, Helen died on Friday and Cutie died last night. The were hatchmates, we hatched them in 2003.
I love having the chickens, but it is so hard when they die. It's especially worrisome to have two seemingly healthy birds go so quickly, and have to now worry about the others.
Lily Passes
April 21, 2006
Lily was my Valentine's Day present in 2006. To heck with flowers, say it with chickens! She was a stunning adult white Sultan hen who was suffering from a VERY bad respiratory infection when we got her, doubly dangerous for a crested breed. She had to stay in the house for several weeks on antibiotics until it had cleared, but was obviously the worse for it and was never strong. She had no concept of getting the heck out of the way and tended to look a little too much like a pair of sweatsocks when she plonked herself down in the middle of the floor. Lily was very sweet and loving towards humans, but jealous of other chickens. Lily had her own idea of where she ranked in the pecking order and it was near the TOP, thank you. She 'talked' and chewed her words just like a Siamese cat. And Lily talked CONSTANTLY.
Lily picked fights with most of the other chickens, the roos included. Nothing serious, just enough to get the point across not to EVER mess with her. Note in the picture how close we are standing, ready to step in and break up any fights.
Trouble is brewing...note Lily's flared tail!
Oops, henfight! Nothing serious, just some chest bumping. We broke it up right away.
Anytime you introduce new adult birds to the flock, there is going to be a certain amount of squabbling. We only step in if it gets excessive or turns to bullying.
Because of this Lily ended up spending most of her time alone, and was having a bit of trouble coming to the horrible realization that she must now sleep in the coop with those other chicken-things. Instead, she always wanted to be in the house and at dusk when it was time to close up the coop, we'd find her waiting politely but a tad impatiently on the back porch for one of those idiot humans to open the door and let her in. Lily never really realized she was a chicken, and just decided to refuse to believe that particular nasty rumor.
We will miss her, she was only with us for two months but we just loved how special and unique she was.
Goodbye, darlin' Lil.
Happy Easter!
April 15, 2006
Thankfully, none of the 7 newly hatched chicks from this weekend are anywhere NEAR this color...
NO, Cutie was broody and was NOT amused. She bit the HELL out my hand when I reached in to take them out again. Serves me right, really.
And So Boots Becomes A First-Time Mother...
April 12, 2006
...amazing creature...!
Cochins make incredible moms. Exploring the house...
Mealworm Tug O War!
The first dustbath with mom--ah, bliss!
Oh Good, More Rain.
March 28, 2006
I just can't say that and sound sincere anymore. And I love rain. But really...Mother Nature, are you listening? Enough, please. The snowpack is good, the lakes are full, the lawn is lush, the car has been rinsed clean. We're good here. I think that Texas is most likely still (or again) on fire, could you send a little their way? Thankyouverymuch.
Besides which, the chickens look like drowned rats and are NOT happy. When they aren't happy, they blame ME.
The "Before" version of Phoenix:
Oh NO!!! Don't take my PICTURE!
Off-Season Indoor Easter Egg Hunt!
March 3, 2006
When it's raining heavily, as it is this morning, we have 5 hens that need to take shelter in the house. This is because their heavily feathered head crests can get wet, pull on their heads and cause brain injuries. Since they don't have the sense to shelter in the coop during the rain, inside they come. Usually they are well mannered and just kind of tool around in the kitchen until the rain stops and they can go back outside to hunt for drowned bugs.
But today, unfortunately, TWO of the girls were gearing up to lay an egg.
This means lots of anxious searching for THE perfect nest site, accompianied by top-of-the-lungs caterwauling. We've gone through this before, so I just try to wait it out, reassuring them from time to time that they are OK, and repeated pleas to just lay the damned egg already.
So Poof searches and inspects the area behind one of the living room end tables...
Hmmmm....nice, but not quite perfect...how about in that pile of unfolded laundry?
Perfect!
Meanwhile, the other hen, Sugar, has become ominously quiet. When I go to find out where she has gotten to, I find her thus:
That's a bowl full of oranges I picked off the backyard tree yesterday, intended for Blood Orange jelly and marmalade today. I removed the egg (and the one in the laundry) later after it was properly worshipped and appreciated by all, an important part of the egg laying process.
I think this is quite possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. :)
I Find It Interesting...
February 19, 2006
that the amazing and beautiful rainbow of eggs we get from our assorted flock of hens includes creamy pink, army green, robin's egg blue, pale blue, beige and dark brown...note the lone white egg in the center...
...the hens who lay these eggs are generally your Basic Model Chickens, although some DO have the Americaunas facial tufts and beards. Hardly exotic looking though.
Amusingly, the REALLY exotic-looking hens, the Polish, with their fancy headgear and beautiful lacing on their feathers--
...are our only white egg layers. :)
Whatd'ya mean, my eggs are 'plain'?!
How To Annoy A Chicken...
February 3, 2006
...or a whole BUNCH of chickens.
Time to dust everyone for mites! Oh, joy.
Since our chickens free-range (fancy talk meaning they walk around the back yard), they hang out with the wild birds, who in their comings and goings, leave behind not-so-pleasant calling cards in the form of parasites, both internal and external. Our chickens are very healthy and having great immune systems, rarely get ill. However we do take the precaution of worming them and dusting them with Sevin (an insecticide powder). Usually we only have to undergo this routine twice a year, but occasionally there is an outbreak of mites that demands an unscheduled round of 'Piss Off Your Pets'. Like yesterday.
Thankfully, yesterday no worming was needed, we had just seen some creepy crawlies on a couple of the hens so we got out the Sevin. Dusting is a procedure that any self respecting chicken RESISTS, and resists with vigor. It neccessitates grabbing the bird in one hand, a handful of Sevin in the other, and massaging the dust deep into the chickens' feathers, all over their body. ALL over their body. Including wingpits and undercarriage. Hens, quite rightly, have a deeply-seated sense of dignity and modesty, and DO NOT take kindly to having J. grope them in such a familiar and thorough manner, and in full view of the rest of the flock. My job was to catch the chickens and hand them over to J. for dusting (the look they shot me reminded me of french aristos going to the guillotine), a process which is much easier in some birds than others. Sweethearts like Babs, Rita, Sugar and Phoenix complied with a minimum of squawking and struggle, but some of the others (Houdini, Juliette and Splash), when they caught on quickly to what was going on, became deliberately slippery and impossible to catch. As the procedure wore on, the dusted birds would stand fearlessly at our feet, in an invincible, "Hah, I'VE already been done!" manner. The as-yet-unmolested chickens hid under any available bush or lawn chair and willed themselves invisible.
Eventually everyone got done, and the coop, roosts and nests as well--for when you dust you have to do the living quarters as well, otherwise it's like taking a shower and putting on grimy clothes. Today not ONE of the chickens will come near me, their noses are severely out of joint. I'll bribe them in a bit with a leftover cheeseburger...food goes along way in chickenland.
It's A Plot, I Tell Ya...
September 23, 2005
In their ongoing quest to brood and hatch a clutch of eggs, my hens have started laying away again. 'Laying away' means creating little sneaky nests anywhere BUT the lovely nest boxes that J. made especially-special for them. They do this juuuust infrequently enough so that we forget about it, until we realize that for the last few days our egg production has dropped by half.
Then it's off to play Off Season Easter Egg Hunt. Usually it's the banties that pull this stunt, who, if you ask the man that owns one; will tell you are wicked clever little snots. Favorite hidden nest spots of the past (not counting eggs laid in the house) include:
an old wheelbarrow full of potting soil and large gravel that I was going to use as a planter, eggs laid DIRECTLY on the stones...
in a trash can...
in an unfinished rabbit hutch...
And in a BAR-B-QUE, for cri-yi!
Also in a long redwood planter, on top of the folding table and my personal favorite: suspended in air in the branches of the sage bush in the herb garden. That was a good one, we didn't find THAT little treasure trove for nearly two weeks. Silly us, we were looking UNDER the bush...
Usually when a hen is going to lay an egg, the entire neighborhood hears about it in advance for some 20 minutes. Loud, anxious cackling along with a desperate hunt for THE PERFECT SOMEPLACE TO LAY THIS EGG TO END ALL EGGS. She is accompanied by the rooster, who will follow her around crawling into lovely dark hidey-holes, burbling charmingly and suggestively, trying to sell her on HIS special nest.
After several long minutes of this nonsense, including loud, repeated requests to be allowed in the house to lay the egg there (NO thank you, I fell for THAT one before), she finally settles on the same spot she always lays her eggs. It's when she gets quiet that she's actually laying the egg, followed by another round of explosive, joyful cackling which all the other hens take up, too. A hen will lay an average of 6 eggs a week, or an egg every other day. Say you've got 10 hens. Each one cackles for herself AND all the others for every freakin' egg. Now you know why farmers drive tractors. It's so they can get a few minutes of QUIET.
Currently we have six hens that have gone broody--that is, they've Gone Over To The Dark Side. Suddenly the sweetest, gentlest little hen morphs into Godzilla. She stays on the nest all day in a trance. She will come off the nest once or twice a day to eat, drink, and poop massively and with a grand stink. The other chickens run for the other side of the yard when a broody comes off the nest and stomps, clucking loudly and angrily, across the yard. It's chicken PMS From Beyond Hell. God help you if you stick your hand near her to roust her off the nest or, most heinous crime of all, take her eggs. Loud, chicken-y death shrieks, fluffing up and bloodletting (yours) follow quickly. Most heartbreaking of all is the nearly human shrieks from the hens that sound JUST like they are sobbing, "Nooooo!" as you remove the eggs from under them. We are heartless, murderous fiends to take their unborn and yes, we feel lower than dirt and apologize.
So lucky us, we've got SIX of these right now. Since we don't want more chicks, we have to both take their eggs each day (the other chickens gleefully find a broody hen and climb in with her to lay their eggs) AND roust them off their nests and into the safety of the coop each night. Some of the broods have formed Survivor-ish alliances and sit together in one nest. That's better, that way no matter HOW you stick your hand in there you're gonna get bit.
Little snots...
Ya Gotta Think Like A Kid...
August 14, 2005
This evening I was out enjoying the grass and visiting with the chickens since I'm going to be in the house for the next few days/weeks recovering from ankle surgery (our house is raised and has no wheelchair ramps).
Phoenix the rooster...
Ain't he cute? Goofy, but pretty!
came over to be friendly, so I picked him up, talked to him and petted him. I teased him a bit with my standard line as I gently felt his little meaty thighs, "Ooh, aren't we a yummy,meaty bird! Umm, yep he's just about ready, FEEL those meaty little drumsticks!" Phoenix just gives me a "Sure, like you'd ever really eat me. I know you're full of BS." look and bears with it. N. came over and said, "Can I?" OK, I said, but gently. She does, feeling his thigh and saying, "Yum, ice cream!"
I was laughing so hard I had to set Phoenix down. Drumsticks = ice cream, in the mind of a 5 year old... :)
Fun With WHAT?!
January 25, 2005
...worms. Earthworms, to be specific. This afternoon we took advantage of the fleeting nice weather to go out and play with the kid and chickens. For N. this involves just about anything, with the chickens today it involved J. with a shovel. The older ones know what The Shovel means and come running to stand on the blade as you are trying to dig.
We weren't planting anything, mind you. Just turning over the earth for the pure sake of breaking the soil, which ya gotta do in warm weather or die. It feeds the soul and calms the spirit. What with all the rain we've had lately the eartworms were numerous and near the surface. The chickens happily pounced on them, not caring that N. was telling them that SHE wanted one to hold and look at. Finally she got one of her own, and as I sat there mentally toting up how much I'd spent this Christmas on toys, she piled some loose dirt on an old cinderblock and commenced to tell her worm about his new house. Then she tried to stuff him into it, only to be robbed of her new plaything by Rita, a small black cochin hen. Not shy about food, our Rita. I struggle against laughing out loud as N. looks at Rita in shock and yells, "Hey--! Mom, she took my worm and I wasn't done playing with it!" Not only this, but Bear has noticed the Worm Home that N. has built and realizes that she saw Rita grab a worm out of it. Destructor Bear moves in like a feathered bulldozer and obliterates the carefully constructed Worm Home, looking mildly annoyed at wasting precious food hunting time when no more worms are forthcoming. We leap to keep everyone happy with more digging, being more careful to seperate the five year old's worms from the chicken's worms.
Eventually the chickens tire of gobbling worms, which is good because several of them look as if they are in real danger of exploding. Liz has fallen into the holes several times lunging for a worm, and Bear has used the smaller birds for traction. A few of the birds are squeamish about the worms though. I guess it's the dirt that sticks to them. Phoenix the rooster only takes one for the barest instant, just to be polite, spitting it out with a nearly audible ptooey for one of the hens and then shaking his head afterwards. I do get him to eat a few that I have cleaned the dirt off of, but he doesn't look all that thrilled.
After a while we give up and go sit down. I see that Bear has a bit of root material hanging from her beak, and have J. hold her while I grasp her head and pull it out of her mouth. When I open her beak I get a full dose of Worm Breath, which I'm here to tell ya ain't pretty. Meanwhile N. is kinda having a good time by sending earthworms down her slide, but she has to keep getting a new worm each time because the old one has mysteriously dissapeared.
Several happy chickens wait at the bottom of the slide, though.
Goodbye, Jack
August 7, 2004
Well, just to keep the depression going, we lost Jack, our 8 year old Barred Rock rooster last night. He and Wild Child were a couple, the grand old couple of the flock. He died quietly in his sleep less than 48 hours after she did. We buried him right next to Wild Child in a bed of roses just like hers. You cannot tell me that there is no such thing as dying of a broken heart, because now I have seen it. There was nothing else wrong with Jack.
The rest of the flock is mostly standing around staring at each other or wandering aimlessly about the yard in clumps. They look at each other as if to say, "Well, what do we do now?" In two short days they have lost their father, protector and lover in Jack, and their mother, matriarch and guardian in Wild Child. The flock dynamic has been thrown into turmoil with no clear successors to either the Head Roo or Head Hen posts.
We are trying to keep them company as much as we can. When we go out into the yard they group around us more than they normally do, even the normally more standoffish birds. I'm trying to adjust to the loss of two long-time and well-loved pets. Anyone who has ever had an older pet, no matter what kind, knows how incredibly cool and laid-back they are to have around. I also can't help but look at the others and wonder who is next. Several of our chickens are older and recent events have left me gun-shy, trying to steel myself to finding another dead bird. It's no fun.
Jack was our household symbol. We use his image and his name in our email, our Internet dealings...so many things. Emotionally I'm a train wreck, but that is, indeed, the cost of keeping pets. It's just hard when such a big bill comes due all at once.
This has not been a good week.
Wild Child Passes
August 5, 2004
Well, we have lost another one.
This time it was our flock's Head Hen, a lovely Silver Laced Wyandotte with the clunky and graceless name of Wild Child. She gained that name nearly ten years ago when we brought her and her two sisters home from the feed store. Then they were tiny, day and a half old baby chicks with their egg tooth still attached. For those that don't know, on birds the egg tooth is the small, hard tip of their beaks that assists them in breaking out of their shells when they hatch. It falls off within the first three days of life.
The reason she was named Wild Child was to help us tell the new arrivals apart from each other. We figured that we would come up with real names for the chicks shortly. 'Wild Child' was what we called her since she was a very boisterous chick, running around and jumping on her sisters' heads when they weren't looking.
Unfortunately for her, the name stuck. So Wild Child she became for good and all.
Wild Child naturally took on the position of Head Hen--she can peck everyone else but no one pecks her, she is leader of the flock. She is the one in my previous posts that climbed up on top of the coop, couldn't get down and had to call us out in the yard to rescue her. She was the one who would call out and alert us to trouble in the yard.
The day before yesterday we noticed that Wild Child was refusing food and simply standing, eyes closed, in the shade under her favorite bush. Yesterday was the same, so we knew that something was up and strongly suspected that she was making her exit. She wasn't sick, just old.
I brought her into the house a bit before 3PM and offered her a small dish of goodies, which she looked at but politely shook her head, refusing. Now when a chicken won't eat, something is wrong. Her body temperature had also fallen. I wrapped her in a bath towel and sat with her on my lap for the next 5 1/2 hours, gently stroking her head and talking to her as she slept. I had mixed up a small amount of baby bird handfeeding formula with some other things, and this I gave her with an eyedropper every 45 minutes to keep her comfortable and hydrated. Around 7PM I had gotten up to stretch my legs and as I walked by the back door, I noticed that every single chicken of our flock had crammed themselves up onto the back porch, something they had never done. I knew what they wanted and opened the back door so that they could come in and visit Wild Child, which they did quietly and one at a time before filing out again.
Over her last few hours Wild Child got quieter and quieter and we knew the time was near. Finally it was 8PM and my daughter's bedtime. She gently petted Wild Child and told her goodnight and goodbye.
Not two minutes later Wild Child gave a single flap of her wings and died in my arms, as I told her I loved her and goodbye.
We'll miss her. Today the other chickens are wandering about looking lost. She would have been 10 years old this coming April and was the cornerstone, guardian, mother, flock representative, disciplinarian and matriarch of the flock. She led the group out of the coop in the morning and called them to roost in the evening.
When you have a pet for that many years they are a member of your family, no matter what kind of animal they are. They become as much a part as your personality and entangled in your family history as any other member of your household.
Our most affectionate farewell to our Wild Child.
New Additions To The Family
July 29, 2004
Making a simple trip to the feed store can be dangerous.
Pictured here are three of the newest additions to the group of Garden Destructors we have living in the back yard:
These are two small--but incredibly heavy--Cornish Rock Bantam hens that so far have the unflattering name of "The Tank Girls" They are extremely sweet and have that so-ugly-you-love-it quality to their faces--they remind me of the extinct Dodo bird. They are wider than they are tall and have a definite waddle when they walk. They can't climb up the ladder to roost, so we'll need to build a lower perch for them. They don't cluck so much as burble.
Here's the other new one--a young Polish hen, so hungry for attention that she runs up to us and jumps in our lap, or pecks your shoes to get you to pick her up. This behaviour led to the people at the feed store labeling her as not only a rooster, but 'mean' as well. This bird was obviously someone's lap pet before she came to us and doesn't have a mean bone in her body. Also with that huge poof of feathers on her head, she can't see worth a darn.
The new birds are settling in well, and our other birds are taking the new additions in stride. Of course, we have been doing some major league sucking up to the new and old birds with the help of a bag of mealworms--the equivilant of candy to chickens.
Horrid Tasty Thing
April 30, 2004
So this afternoon I was out enjoying the waning of the day...the chickens had been fed and were wandering contentedly about the yard...my daughter was playing happily with the bubbles I was blowing.
Suddenly one of the young chickens, Phoenix, darts across the yard over by the coop in what was CLEARLY the furtive, "I've got a really cool goodie" dash with three other birds in hot pursuit.
Problem is, I haven't handed OUT anything and it was clearly a large, tasty something that this chicken had in his beak.
Oh, God.
Off I go to give chase, wondering what the heck they've gotten into NOW. As I join the chicken parade and we all double-time it in circles around the yard, the Tasty Thing is looking more and more like...a fish.
A smallish fish, to be sure...
Wondering how in the Hell a fish has made it into my landlocked suburban yard, I get serious about getting Tasty Thing away from a very determined bird. By now the rest of the chickens have wisely given up the chase since the Head Hen (me) is obviously showing waaaay too much interest in Tasty Thing.
Except now Tasty Thing is actually looking kinda like a human finger...! A decrepit and rotting finger, but still very fingerlike nonetheless.
At this point I pick up my daughter's toy shovel, intent on getting Horrid Tasty Thing OUT of my pet's beak. Meanwhile, my husband, who throughout this entire time has been on the roof working on the air conditioner and has had a ringside seat to this fiasco, is shouting, "What is it? What IS IT?!"
"I dunno!" I yell back, brandishing the toy shovel at Phoenix, who has by now taken refuge under the patio table. NOW here comes my 4 year old daughter to 'help', saints preserve us. I make one last, desperate, blind lunge at the chicken under the table and am rewarded with a loud squawk. To my relief the offended bird runs out from under the other side of the table, sans Horrid Tasty Thing. Oh goodie, now I get to play with it.
"Jesus!" I involuntarily yell when I finally get a good look at it.
"What IS IT?!" Again from the roof, beginning to sound a little freaked out.
"Uh...." Ugh, necessity dictates that I now look closely at Horrid Tasty Thing, unwillingly assisted by a half-hearted prod from a handy nearby stick.
It...it's a...
"Geez, it's a SNAKE!" I call up to the roof. Actually it's just the head and an inch or two of neck/body and judging by the many beak holes in it, is obviously a discarded snack from the local crows...double ugh...
"Where in the Hell did they get a snake?!" from above in disbelief.
I don't know, but I've learned that where there's one, there's more. By the way, my brain whispers to me...where's the REST of Horrid Tasty Thing? Away to the coop I fly, searching for more bits and pieces. To my releif I don't find any, but this is also worrisome since I now wonder if my preschooler will be next to produce a grisly offering. I return to further inspect the decapitated monster, and decide that what it really is, is a REALLY BIG alligator lizard. Great. Lizards we have in abundance and I welcome them, although I much prefer them alive. Much better.
That poor chicken never did get Horrid Tasty Thing returned to him, but I did slip him a piece of pizza crust to help sooth any ruffled feathers.
Ahh, another sleepy day in suburbia...
While I'm Thinking Of It, Just A Few Anecdotal Chicken Stories...
April 18, 2004
Fog…
When our first three hens were 2 months old, they were moved from inside the house to the new coop in the back yard. They adapted well and loved their new surroundings.
Until early one morning we awoke to bloodcurdling, wailing cackling from the backyard. Up we leaped and in record time, visions of dying chickens in our heads, ran out into the back yard…to find that a heavy fog had descended and the chicken coop was hidden from view. Of course we realized instantly that this meant to the chickens, the reverse was true and the house was gone! We laughed and made our way to the coop and let out some very confused chickens. They made their way cautiously around the yard and we earned some dirty looks for laughing at them.
Adventures in Coop Climbing
We are spending a peaceful Saturday afternoon in the house, when suddenly we hear loud, plaintive drawn-out cackling from the yard. We dash out the back door to see who's being murdered. To our surprise, we can't locate the hen making the noise. We finally see her—on the roof (10 feet up!) of the chicken coop, yelling at us to GET...HER...DOWN...!!! She had jumped up on a half wall, from there to the top of the fence, to the top of the coop...
...and then discovered that she couldn't get down. J. climbed up and rescued her and she got a lecture about hopping up on things to explore the world. She has since stayed sensibly on the ground.
New Foods
Trying to be parents to baby chicks is a weird experience at best. They catch on to normal food and water just fine, but to teach them other new foods involves a tedious lot of calling chick!-chick!-chick!, endless pointing, and repeatedly picking up and dropping the tidbit. Our baby chicks love sauerkraut (go figure!) and mealworms. In fact, we discovered (accidentally!) that the small mealworms look juuuuust like another baby chick's toe…
Amid pained chick screams we were able to separate the two. My, but baby chicks hold on to food tightly!
Chickens love table scraps, and we have a lot of fun introducing them to new foods. On one occasion it was cooked spaghetti. The problem was, once the bird started to eat the noodle from one end, when they discovered that after one or two swallows, there was a huge length of noodle still to go they would start to panic. Now they are stuck, because they can't cough it back up and they haven't yet learned to bite or break it off-—the only choice is to grimly keep on swallowing. To their utter relief here comes the other end (finally!) but wait—now THAT end is flailing around and slapping them about the head and chest! Agghh! Horrors! And when they try to get away it follows them! I never knew that chickens could run in reverse.
They have since learned to break things into manageable bites...
What's That?
When our bantam hens were about 1 ˝ months old, they were running around on the living room floor with the adult chickens for a surpervised meet & greet before formally joining the flock outside. We've found that this procedure helps smooth the waters.
Our bantam rooster was perched on my husband's leg as he lay on the floor watching TV. Unbeknownst to the rooster, one of our bantam babies, Yin, was approaching the rooster from the rear.
Apparently she spotted the little pink 'button' under his tail.
Now--to a chicken, everything is food until proven otherwise.
The ensuing hearty peck to that roosters' nether region made him leap straight UP with a loud, pained squawk. This startled Yin, who ran off. When the rooster came down he glared at us for laughing, then spent the next two hours trying to sneak up on Yin from behind to return the favor. A simple chase and peck on the head wouldn't do—he was out for exact revenge.
He never did catch up with her, although I don't think he ever forgot the insult.
This is the same roo that once chased me into the bathroom after I laughed at him for falling off of a box he was roosting on the edge of. I had to literally climb through the bathtub to hide behind my husband (who was shaving at the time) while the rooster made little dissapointed noises in his throat at not being able to reach me, and that just made me laugh all the harder.
I still carry a small scar on the back of my hand from when he finally caught up with me. Roosters have a very deep rooted sense of dignity, fair play and justice.
Ever Had A Pet That Was Too Much Trouble?
March 26, 2004
I mean an animal that at the time seemed like a good match, healthy, happy, no problems...
...and once you get it home you realize what a horrible mistake you've made.
OK, maybe I'm overstating it a bit. But not much, I'll tell ya. Such is the case with Houdini. Houdini is a small Bantam hen of indeterminate heritage.
We first got Houdini at a local feedstore that carried adult chickens as well as baby chicks. This place was Chicken Hell. The conditions were horrible. As a matter of fact we got Houdini and Mrs. Black (mentioned previously) on the same day at this place.
Houdini is one of those pets that unfortunately EARNED her name. When we got her home we trimmed their wings and released both new birds into the flock. Everything went fine and they fit right in. Every so often we'd go out into the yard to check on things. After a few hours we suddenly heard an uproar in the yard, the whole flock was yelling their brains out. Out into the yard I ran, thinking that surely someone was being murdered. I stopped short on the patio, looking around for the trouble. Most of the flock was standing around looking alarmed, cackling loudly and staring goggle-eyed at a point over my head. It was then that I realized that there WAS something over my head an looked up. There, perched on the grape arbor 8 feet in the air, was Houdini.
Now, everyone knows that chickens can't fly. Uh-huh.
Houdini flies.
Houdini flies really, really well. Clipped wings or no.
I learned this when I tried to shoo this silly chicken down off the arbor and back onto the ground where any self-respecting chicken ought to be. Houdini responded by cackling with glee as she FLEW about 30 yards to the back fence. Flying like a real freakin' bird with fancy gliding and everything. Now since Houdini was new to us and didn't know where she lived as yet, I could see disaster looming large on the horizon. I got over to the fence as quick as I could and tried to shoo her back into OUR yard. I SWEAR she laughed as she went over the fence into the neighbor's yard. Now this yard is a regular jungle of overgrown plants, bushes and trees, complete with a shed full of junk that overflows into the yard with more piles of junk just for fun all over the place. The people who live there use the place as a weekend party house and are rarely home.
Needless to say getting Houdini back was going to be a nightmare.
So, J. dutifully climbs the fence and spends the next 30 minutes chasing around a wild chicken who is convinced that he means to eat her. When he finally catches her we are seriously considering it. After another wing clipping, this time so short that she could join the Marines, she is returned to our yard and behaves herself the rest of the day until it's time to go out and feed everyone.
A quick beak count comes up one short...Houdini. With heavy sighs and sinking hearts we begin to search. Right about that time our neighbor to one side of us sticks their head over the fence and asks if we are missing a chicken. Yup, there is Houdini, exploring ANOTHER yard. J. again jumps the fence and gives chase. I stand in our yard listening and ready to receive Houdini when J. hands her back. Instead I hear him yell, "No--no---NO!!" accompianed by a wild cackle. Houdini has jumped the wrong fence and gone into ANOTHER yard.
This one has a Cocker Spaniel in it. A bird dog.
Hilarity ensues as J. leaps the fence like an Olympic hurdler and gives chase to a screaming chicken and a yelping dog. I can only stand helplessly and listen as it sounds like all three are killing each other. Quiet falls. I hear J. coming back over the fence and see that he is carrying Houdini's body. Much to my surprise, she is alive. Not only that, she is unhurt. J. tells me that he caught up with the dog/chicken combo just in time and you never saw a more confused Cocker Spaniel whom I'm sure was terrified by having strange chickens and humans drop screaming from the sky into his little world.
Well, we can't clip Houdini's wings any more but we CAN keep her in the coop for a few days to help her learn that she lives HERE now, so that's what we do. This works for about three days until one morning Houdini slips past J. as he is letting the others out of the coop. This seems OK though since she seems to have learned her lesson and meekly stays in the yard for the next few days.
Until Saturday.
On Saturday we again hear an uproar and look out just in time to see Houdini sitting gleefully on the back fence, looking smugly back over her shoulder at us. She sits there just long enough to make sure that we've seen her and then leaps down into the junk jungle.
This time no amount of chasing can catch her and she leaps the fence into another yard and dissapears. While we don't want to lose her and there are certainly more than a few things running around at night that would love a chicken dinner, we have to give up for the time being. Our only hope is that she'll get hungry and come home. The rest of the day we spot her here and there. At one point she spent two hours up on the tallest point of the neighbor's roof, walking around next to their air conditioner. We make a few "lost chicken" signs and post them on the next street hoping that someone will call.
On Sunday we get a call, the neighbors say Houdini is in their yard. J. goes over armed with a blanket and after more blood-curdling screams and more than a little cussing, finally returns home triumphantly carrying Houdini wrapped inside it. I help J. mop up the blood on his arms where he plunged them into the Bouganvilla bush that Houdini was hiding in. She seems quieter and more docile now, apparantly she just wanted to see the world a bit.
Ever since then Houdini has stayed in the yard and been a very nice little hen. She doesn't even jump up on the patio furniture and stays sensibly on the ground like a good little hen.
Until she went broody.
One day there was again an alarm call, this time raised by the flock's Head Hen, a wise old Silver Laced Wyandotte. She has one call that she ONLY makes when something is wrong with one of the flock. Today she was making it, loudly, in the middle of the yard. A quick search revealed that Houdini was again missing, and there was nothing to do but wait and see if she would reappear. She did about an hour later, and we figured that she had simply gone exploring. Unfortunately she did it twice more that same week. We realized that what she was doing was going off to lay eggs in one of the neighbor's yards in secret, and when she had a clutch she would vanish for good to go and sit on them. Now even if she did survive nightime predators for 21 days while sitting on the nest, once the chicks hatched there would be no way for them to follow her back to our yard for food and shelter and they would die.
After a few days Houdini reappeared and this time had surely gone broody. She stomped around all fluffed up and in a bad mood, clucking angrily and pecking any flockmate who got near her. J. lost no time in chasing her down and grabbing her indelicately. Houdini was tossed into the coop, this time to stay until she gave up the idea of nesting away somewhere.
Instead she has finally come to her senses and gone broody in one of the nest boxes in the coop. Hurrah! As a reward for not making us crazy and bound through other people's yards we have given her three eggs to hatch.
Peace once again...for however long it will last this time...
Goodbye, Mrs. Black
March 5, 2004
Mrs. Black died today.
Peacefully, it seems, and of natural causes. But still a shock for her to turn up missing at nightfall when it was time to close up the coop and say goodnight to our little backyard flock of pet chickens.
A quick search of the garage, where a few months back she had managed to hide and gave us a scare, produced nothing. We found her curled up underneath my daughter's backyard climbing-castle-thing; one of those plastic, brightly colored things that kids love these days. Mrs. Black had no marks on her and seems to have slipped her earthly bounds quickly and quietly with no fuss.
Mrs. Black was a Chicken Hell feed store rescue and had health problems from the start, along with having almost no feathers on her skinny little body. One eye was swollen shut and weeping fluid and she wheezed something awful. Seeing her in that horrible place I hadn't expected her to last long, but couldn't stand to walk away and leave her there. We bought her and brought her home after a trip to the vet for medication. She spent two months inside the house getting well, fattening up and growing feathers. Her eye, which I had doubted was even still there, healed up and turned out fine. She got her name from my then 2 year old daughter, who walked by her one day and said, "Oh...hello Mrs. Black!" Mrs. Black had a quiet dignity and could stand next to you for several minutes before you realized she was there.
We will miss her sweet nature, wall-eyed stare and her raspy-voiced burblings. Just this afternoon she had come running with the rest when I passed out a handful of strawberries and all was right with the world. Just yesterday I stopped on the back porch to give her a quick pet.
I know some people will read this and think, "It was just a chicken!" What most people don't know is how personable, smart and cheerful chickens are and what terrific pets they make.
Tomorrow we will bury her in a bed of cut flowers, under the bay tree by the back fence.
Goodbye Mrs. B.
An Introduction
March 2004
I'm a wife and mom to one daughter, and our suburban home plays host to various pets...some of which people may think strange to consider 'pets'.
For instance the 35 year old tortoise named Geraldine, currently hibernating on the floor of the kitchen pantry. I'll know when it's time to take her outside again when she starts knocking over the spaghetti. Ah, Spring! With my luck that'll be at 3AM and I'll assume it's a hungry prowler.
Another strange aspect of our pets is the flock of chickens in the back yard, who routinely march in any door open for more than 3 seconds and then tour the house looking for food items dropped by my 4 year old daughter. One of the hens made sure she was remembered this year by sneaking up on one of my sisters and knocking a plateful of birthday cake out of her hands and onto the bird's feathers. Pink icing! No surprise then, that that particular hen's name is 'Bear'. I was going to name her that or 'Obstacle'. You get the picture. What Bear REALLY wants to do is become Queen of the House Chickens and live inside all of the time. Usually she decides she wants this right after a dust bath when her feathers are loaded with dirt. For those who don't know, sooner or later a chicken will remember that their feathers are loaded with 40 pounds of dirt and they will shake themselves like a wet dog. Hilarity (and some swearing) ensues as clouds of dust fill the air and small sticks and stones ricochet off of the cabinetry. Watching chickens is better than watching TV!
The gravel was still wet, for crying out loud!
While we were making the new chicken run, we set our tools on top of the rabbit hutch to keep them out of the kid's reach. The banties (once again) decided that the wooden top of a rabbit hutch, out in the open, in a bunch of zip ties was PERFECTION ITSELF.
Under my desk. She did manage to pull over a file folder and scatter it's contents, but that was easily picked up later on.
After several long minutes of this nonsense, including loud, repeated requests to be allowed in the house to lay the egg there (NO thank you, I fell for THAT one before), she finally settles on the same spot she always lays her eggs. It's when she gets quiet that she's actually laying the egg, followed by another round of explosive, joyful cackling which all the other hens take up, too. A hen will lay an average of 6 eggs a week, or an egg every other day. Say you've got 10 hens. Each one cackles for herself AND all the others for every freakin' egg. Now you know why farmers drive tractors. It's so they can get a few minutes of QUIET. 
Here's the other new one--a young Polish hen, so hungry for attention that she runs up to us and jumps in our lap, or pecks your shoes to get you to pick her up. This behaviour led to the people at the feed store labeling her as not only a rooster, but 'mean' as well. This bird was obviously someone's lap pet before she came to us and doesn't have a mean bone in her body. Also with that huge poof of feathers on her head, she can't see worth a darn. 
Mrs. Black died today.