Breaking a Broody

Petunia would make a great mama, she would. Buuuuut, we don't have a rooster and her eggs (and those that she's commandeered from her flock mates) will not hatch, no matter how long she sits there...and she's been sitting there for a few days now. Her breed is known for 'going broody,' in other words, periodically they have a strong instinctual drive to raise a brood o'chicks. My first clue that she was in the zone was when she decided to spend the night in the egg laying box instead of roosting with the other gals. And then she pretty much has stayed there except when Azalea or Marigold come up to lay their eggs, then they'd shoo her out, she'd pace back and forth waiting for them to deposit an egg right next to hers and then scramble back on in to sit on the batch. Poor thing. She had even plucked her feathers from her undersides to incubate those pathetic unfertilized eggs. I brought her a personal dish of water and food for her to replenish her energy. She wasn't looking any worse for wear, but it has happened that a hen becomes so broody she literally dies waiting to receive her babies that are never coming.

So I decided to make every one's life easier and put her in the broody breaker. Basically a wire dog crate up on saw horses in the garage with no bedding. I took her a few days to snap out of it, but she eventually stopped screaming at me and angrily puffing out her feathers whenever I came near and now she's back to normal and hopefully will start laying her daily egg once again. Had I known she was likely to head in that direction I would have waited on getting our new chickies earlier in the spring and just gotten a few fertilized eggs, how fun would that've been watching little chickers scrambling after their mama! Maybe next year.

A Very Molly Christmas

We flew on Christmas Eve to be with D's family down in Arizona.  We knew we'd have a blast, but never expected to come home (well, almost) with the best Christmas gift ever!  We're adopting a dog!  Molly.  She's about 4-years-old and related to the beloved Buster, and grew up with D's cousin and his family.  She's well mannered, and sweet, and a hanfull of other great things too; we cannot wait until she gets here.  Yeah, gets here.  She's still down in Arizona and won't be in Washington until the end of February.  We thought it'd be kinda a lame way to start a relationship by putting her under the belly of a plane and bringing her home to a completely new environment, not to mention an unprepared family.  So here we are, and I in classic fashion am obsessing over books and videos about Labradors Retrievers, and training, etc. until D drives her home to us.  D and I talked round and round about it during our trip, and are completely convinced that she'll be a great fit for our family.

Monroe

E has croup, again.  We took it easy for the first half of the day, but I think we were all needing to get out of the house on this very wet and dark afternoon for a little field trip. Being outside in the moist air is really beneficial for E's tight air pipe.

I have mentioned the feed store in Monroe where we got Petunia, it's a great family run place that has the largest selection of chicks I ever dreamed of (ducklings, turkeys, and guinea fowl too).  E was in heaven.  She moved slowly from bin to bin exclaiming how cute they all were and picking up the little fluff balls to get her little fuzzy fix.  We were pretty much the only visitors so we stayed for a good 1/2 hour or so.

I was in the middle of a relatively lengthy conversation about waterers and feeders with the clerk when I felt a tug at my jacket and heard an obvious concern welling up in E's raspy little voice. "Mommy!  I need to show you something!"  This wasn't giddy excitement, she was worried.  I excused myself from the conversation and she led me to the bin of chicks that she had been fawning over and pointed to a quiet little peep, "That one is pasted up!"

Alright, poultry talk:  *Pasting up : "a condition in which their droppings cake up and block their vent opening, preventing them from passing any more droppings."  It is deadly if not dealt with promptly, and E knows this.  She is visually terrified.  Alright, this is tricky.  This store obviously deals with chicks a lot, they're a probably a dime a dozen, each one isn't too valuable (some of these are being sold for the table anyhow, very few I imagine will have a long drawn out life the way our backyard flock will, our pets).  God knows I do not want to tell someone how to run their business...conflict is not a strong suit for me.  Do I take care of the sick chick myself, do I lie and tell E that someone who works there will take care of it...do I get involved?  I chose the latter; to ask for help on behalf of the sick bird and my wide-eyed girl.  My daughter needed to see action.  I walked back to the young clerk I had been talking to and quietly asked if they cared whether or not we had spotted a pasted-up chick?  She affirmed that they did and asked E to show her which one it was.  She scooped it up, cleaned it's fuzzy little bum, and was able to relieve that little body of some serious built up droppings.  I'll admit it wasn't a pretty site, but when she set that chick back down and it quickly scurried away and into the flock, I felt a huge sense of relief, we had made the right choice.  Who knows, it may die tomorrow but my daughter was able to experience a sense of justice for one of God's smallest creatures and that kind of empathy is something you cannot really know without experience.  I was so proud of her, and I told her so.  We talked about how perhaps that very chick may be a pet that will make someone happy for a long time, and how maybe someone had helped one of our girls in their first week of life.  It was a very sweet car ride home, and I was so happy we had made the trip.

*Definition provided by the good people at My Pet Chicken.

Chicks on the Brain

I've been obsessing about getting our very own backyard flock for a few months now.  D came up with the idea years ago, and only now did it seem feasible.  I've read this book from cover to cover, wandered all over the internet for coop plans and ideas, and studied breeds and varieties late into many nights.  I finally came up with a short list that we would most appreciate; winter hardy, great layers, and docile dispositions.  If anyone has some good pointers or advice send it on over!

For now our little chickadee's are doing great.  To be honest, I was a little worried after we brought them home yesterday.  They were pretty quiet and sleepy and not hungry or thirsty at all.  I also wasn't completely confident in how warm they were or weren't.  In fact I had to convince myself to stay in bed despite the fact I awoke a few times in the night wondering and worried about how they were fairing.  I was fully prepared to check on them in the morning only to find one or both dead.  But both were just peeping away, and they had happily made a mess of their food and water over night.  So, everything is great!  The only remaining slight issue is that we have a neighborhood cat that likes to wander into our garage occasionally when we leave the door open; I don't even want to think about how quickly he could carry one or both off, so door stays shut.

I can't tell you what a perfect fit these little gals seem to be for our family.  They need our care, but not too much. They're cute now and helpful later (eggs & fertilizer).   Quiet, not furry and they live outside!

And you haven't seen anything nearly as cute as a chick falling asleep all snuggled up next to her dozing buddy.

The Girls Are Here!

We got 2 of our 3 chicks today!  Azalea is a Black Star, and Marigold is a Rhode Island Red,  they're just 1 week old.  We will be picking up Petunia the Blue Laced Wyandotte later this week (she hasn't hatched yet). We are all egg-static (he-he) about our new pets, and they seem very comfortable in their new digs.  Come this summer they'll permanently move out to the backyard to their new coop, and by fall we expect to see a regular supply of eggs!  But for now we've set up a large plastic bin in the garage complete with a feeder, water, bedding and a heat lamp.  E is ga-ga over them, and cannot wait to introduce them to all her friends & family; come on by and meet them!

A Fish Eulogy

We bid you adieu, dear Bo. You were with us for such a short time and yet you brought us such joy. Um, wait a minute. No you didn't. You were a pain in the rear. I had to change your water every week, you were a finicky eater, and you tried to commit suicide more than once my burying yourself under the rocks in your bowl. Maybe it was that you were looking a little sickly before we left you on our long weekend trip, combined with the fact that we turned off the heat in the house and you were left with near freezing temperatures (it did snow for heaven's sake) and no food to sustain you. In any case we now say good-bye, rest in peace.

Anyone need Beta pellets?

Bo

I forgot to post about the newest addition to our family, Bo. E received her fish from our next door neighbor, finally. She named him after the green bow that was tied sweetly around his glass bowl.

Although following through on their promise of this fish was appreciated, the fact that he's a Siamese Fighting Fish that cannot co-habitat with any other fish (not even the same species) is well, more work. We decided to put him in the bathroom, and he seems happy enough.


The other day I noticed that there was a mass of bubbles that was collecting at the surface of his water. Interesting. Well a quick Wikipedia search informed me that he's just happy and looking for a little love. The males build these bubble nests and protect the babies/eggs.

Gish, the Fish

Our neighbor requested to purchase a fish for E's birthday, I obliged and offered to get the tank. Well, we've been waiting and waiting for that knock on the door, weeks now (She turned 3 in September...). Mike, our neighbor, even brought it up when we graced his doorstep last week while Trick-or-Treating promising to bring over her pet this last weekend. Nothing. So, enough is enough. You can only look at an empty fish tank of water for so long before you start getting the feeling that this is pathetic, and slightly heart-breaking for the little toe-head that is constantly wondering what the heck is going on.

We've been brainstorming names for her forthcoming pet for at least a month. Bellanor, Gavid, and a myriad of other rhyming 'names,' were E's suggestions. But on the way out the door Gish was her last offering, and ya know what? I think it's a good one. It represents this time in her life when rhyming is pretty much all she does, falling down in fits of laughter at some of the silly outcomes. So, Gish, the fish it is!


We buckled up, and were on our way, with Auntie Gloria in tow. She perused the tanks with eager excitement, saying "This one, oh no, this one!" over and over. We finally settled on a black moor goldfish with bulgy eyes.
She gingerly carried him home in his plastic bag, and talked to him explaining everything. "Here's your new home, that's your light, here's your rocks, they're red."


Look at that face (E's)! She couldn't be happier!