It's Chick Season Again

To keep up egg production we introduce 3 or so new babies each year. This year we carried 3 Speckled Sussex home. The breed are hearty foragers, and apparently remain consistent layers throughout the winter months. Though right now they are just about the cutest things you'll ever see they will all remain un-named due to the nature of their demise. They will be eaten after they're laying slows (and even sooner if we brought home a boy by mistake). We will not fool ourselves this time and literally give and call them by their flowery names; they are to do their job dutifully, they will be treated with the uppermost respect and care, but hey, when they start dipping into the red, they'll hit the pot.

E kind of laughed it off and started calling them chirppy, scratchy, and pecky and when I reminded her about not anthropomorphising these ones N jumped to their rescue;

"We won't eat the chickies, Mama." he sternly corrected me

"Well, no we won't eat them until they're grown, baby." I conceded.

"No, Mama, these are not for eating."

(oh boy)

A Little Love Nest

We have an escapee, she's figured out how to hop the enclosure and spend the majority of her day out pecking grass instead of marching around in the muddy coop. I let Ivy back in occasionally if she seems to want to return, but for the most part she seems to enjoy her independence and frankly, if she's smart enough to get herself out she deserves a little alone time. It hadn't really been a problem until I noticed she hadn't layed her usual daily seafoamy green egg in a few days. Then one morning after Ella slogged through our muddy backyard to feed the gals I noticed Ivy feverishly pacing the fence, then she got her whits about her, hopped onto the perch, flapped to the top of the fence, awkwardly fluttered to the ground and made a beeline to a patch of dirt that stays pretty dry up against the house. I was so curious, and suspecting to find a few eggs in her new little secret spot among the trowels, rakes and pitchforks leaning up against the house providing her a decent amount of protection. E and I peeked from my bedroom window that is situated exactly above her special little spot (with a bird's eye view) and sure enough she had made a little love nest in the dirt with 2 beautiful seafoamy blue-green eggs.

Excuse Me While I Kiss My Chicken

The winter brings a lot less to worry about in the yard, the veggie garden and fruit trees are resting and in our chicken coop so are the hens. Something most people wouldn't realize is that with the shorter days comes reduced egg production. Chickens need light to lay. The average laying chicken needs approximately 13 hours of daylight to trigger egg production. Often times chicken owners will install an artificial light source to keep those eggs a comin; after all we still have to feed and care for the birds regardless of whether or not their making us breakfast. I didn't get around to that this year, and for 2 strait months my egg bowl on the counter sat empty...no eggs (this is another little known perk about chicken husbandry, freshly lain eggs don't need to be refrigerated. An invisible yet protective membrane is washed away before lining them up in a cartons for sale in stores).

This is a bitter pill to swallow after a plentiful summer of more than 3 dozen eggs a week, I was selling them to neighbors for heaven's sake! A little part of me died each time I had to pay for eggs at the grocery store, I know it's not a handsome fee but to have little egg making machines scratching around in my own backyard and then pay for far less than superior eggs just killed me. Well, the days are getting noticeably longer, and we got our "first" egg this week. When I compare the two it's no contest, my eggs are better. Look at the difference! You couldn't buy an egg that big at QFC!

organic free range egg on the left from a grocey store/organic free range egg on the right from our Marigold

Keep Calm

I know these signs are kinda the rage right now, but c'mon. This is my favorite chicken thing I found on Etsy today.

(check out their other fun posters)

Snow Topped Cabbages

We got over 1/2 a foot of snow during the night, and it never stopped coming down all day. The only thing left visible in my garden were 2 lonely purple cabbages, the chickens have been to 'chicken' to even step one claw outside, and the only thing moving in my backyard at 9am were these 2 clowns.

A Noun is a Person

Today we began working on identifying people as nouns. E's workbook requested that on a separate page she draw a person and then write a sentence about that person and underline the noun, she choose Kaela, her best friend:

Carve It Up!

Somewhere between trips to the store, heating up the hot glue gun and sitting at my sewing machine for costume making we managed to get our pumpkins to the table for some slice and dice fun. E was set on using a skull template that came with our carving kit, but in the end decided she wanted to just go free style and she did the entire jack-o-lantern herself, knife-work and all! N just wanted something happy, but he was determined to use these little pink tongs from his play kitchen to clean it out. E sketched something on our blackboard that he willingly approved. I tweaked it a bit, so the missing teeth coordinated with E's little jack-o-lantern smile she's been sporting this month.

The chickens and Molly also got to celebrate with grated pumpkin in their bowls! We thought we'd be carving up our very own home grown pumpkins this year, but try as we might not one pumpkin grew from our vine! Tons of flowers (all male apparently) no fruit...next year, I guess.

...and all was right with the world.

Our Petunia wants to be a mom. Every 2 months on the dot she starts showing signs of indisputable mommy-ness.  She sits in the egg box all day and night, to the great irritation of the other gals she commandeers their eggs, and all in the name of hatching babies. Each time I notice we're back in 'broody world', I set up the dog crate in the garage and break her of it.  It works, it's fine, I just can't help but wonder what would happen if we did give her a few fertile eggs to set on?

I did it.

I picked up 5 eggs from Jen, who's allowed to have roosters intermingling with her gals. I set up a private little apartment with her own food and water and nesting box and let her settle in. She immediately strode over, cocked her head this way and that eyeing those gorgeous eggs, gobbled up a large amount of food (broody hens rarely feed themselves), took a dust bath, rearranged the eggs, fluffed her feathers and slowly lowered her warm body right down. That was yesterday, and she hasn't moved! We're hoping to have chicks in 3 weeks (which coincidentally lands right on my birthday)! All the other gals are very curious about why she's getting the special treatment, it's quite hilarious to watch them circle her apartment, not sure how to get in. We gave 'em some extra clean straw so they wouldn't feel left out.

Trades

Doesn't the world just seem perfect when you can give part of yourself and receive back an equal part from another? This last year we've become friendly with a really neat couple just down the road from us.

Last winter I watched as a sprawling grassy field was converted into a glorious garden! The couple, Mike and Melissa bought the property when it went up for sale last fall and did what I always envisioned for that space. I was always so hopeful that someone would convert the pristine sunny exposed property and use it for its potential.  It happens to be on our every-day driving route and each time we passed there was something new, something exciting! We'd slow each day while passing and exclaim about the covered rows, or drip lines. And apparently we weren't the only ones; so became Rubberneck Farms.

One day I stopped and introduced myself (Which as many of you know is not typical behavior on my part. I am pretty firmly planted in my comfort zone and reaching out is difficult for me). I let them know we were eager fellow homesteaders up the road with a flock of chickens and a small but hopeful garden. After some sincere conversation it was arranged that for 1 dozen eggs we would take home some of the most flavorful produce you could ever find. Some weeks it's a bag of purple, green and yellow beans, a few zucchini and pound of salad greens. Other days we get to take home a bunch of carrots and tomato's. And I will say that my family eats it with abandon.

This is what drives me to become more self sufficient, this is what I believe it's all about and the thing I earnestly and purposely expose my children to, so that it goes on. We must come back to a place of knowing our neighbors and feeding one another. Not just with food, but with information and empathy. We of course send our texts and e-mails to sync up our trades, but when it comes down to it; when I offer that carton of eggs and they extend their harvest it's putting us out there. We have conversations about our lives, about how our passions have gotten us here. It's what changes my mind about the direction of where our world and country are going, it's what makes my cold and skeptical heart warm a bit; I have evidence: People can be good and can take care of one another.

Chicken Prison

I've mentioned before that the gals just haven't been getting along. They're catty yes, but I think I was trying to make them all live in a smaller space than they deserved. Our original coop was built with the idea that we'd only ever have 3 chickens, and since then we've added 3 more birds, and a little more room...but in retrospect not enough. I was frequently jolted awake by squawking in the early hours of the morning to free them. I have even considered giving one or two of the trouble makers away to make my life easier, but then we wouldn't be getting 1/2 a dozen eggs a day, and I've gotten used to that. Thankfully D easily saw my predicament and took an entire day off, rented some equipment, bought the necessary supplies in order to build what he now affectionately calls "Chicken Prison." I love him for this new addition. Its walls are high enough (over 7 feet) so that those nit-whits cannot fly over, and the fence itself is not ugly, I think it looks a little like a zoo exhibit, myself. I love going out and collecting eggs and feeding them now, they're even letting me sleep in!

N watched his dad from the play structure

the gals were freaked by the noise

large post holes next to old fence

the digger

posts in

cross beams on

door together

Ivy hiding

helping

adding the chicken wire

the inmates

finished product

Green Egg & Chicken Shoes

You guys, I finally got a beautiful bluish-greenish egg this morning from Ivy, one of my new Aracauna's!  And it was in the egg box, right next to Marigold's big brown beautiful egg (not playing favorites)! How these relatively dim birds figure out where I want them to deposit their precious egg is beyond me. It is so perfect; and the only real reason I got new chicks this year!

::::::::::

... and it was a double-yolker to boot! Don't you love how the shell is seafoamy green, even on the inside?  So happy!

Also finally invested in some proper coop shoes. I've been ruining my clogs and flip-flops out there and needed some designated 'chicken shoes.'

Chicken Boy

It occurred to me the other day that N won't know what it's like to not have chickens in his childhood. I kind of like that. He's fearless around them, just scoops them up if they're careless enough to get too close. Most of the time I try and keep them in "the chicken yard" to avoid dug up plants and poop everywhere, but the younger ones are still quite flighty, and oftentimes I'll find them pecking around just outside the confines of the 3 foot high fencing.

Lil Helper

D's been expanding our coop to my specifications, and a Little Mister is eager to help.

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.

The Underbelly of the Chicken World

* I try and keep this blog as PG as possible, so I will not post photo's here of events that transpired, but a word of caution...there is descriptive carnage in following post.

I awoke with a start this morning.  There was some gruesome sounding squawking going on in the coop. There I found one of our 2-month-old-babies (Daisy, the Buff Orpington) with it's head in a hole (not unlike an ostrich) breathing deeply but otherwise not moving. My heart sank, I gently lifted her to my chest and quickly saw that the feathers and skin had been pulled back from her neck. She was horrifically mauled by her own kind. The older ones have been pushing the younger ones around some, but they must have cornered her and really went for it. Things were pretty heated a few weeks ago, but I was under the impression that they had worked things out. Thankfully I have my most knowledgeable chicken friend on speed dial and frantically woke her from her sleep shortly after 7am. She confirmed that I should separate her from all others, gently clean wound, medicate with Neosporen and let her rest in the quiet garage with the heat lamp.
Daisy has been eating, drinking, pooping, and chirping so I think she'll make it, but oh, I do not want to go through that again. I will take more precautions next round of chicks, and have already altered the coop so I can manage the two flocks easier. We were all pretty shaken, but it's a bit of a reality check; they are animals, they have instinct and no amount of anthropomorphising on our part changes them.

Tick-Tock, Cluck-Cluck!

I was happy to have one of my 'chicken friends' over for a visit this afternoon when a box arrived for me! Something I ordered from Etsy, something I have been eyeing for several months now and finally decided I could not live without it!  TA-DA! A wind-up vintage chicken alarm clock.  The hen's head bobs up and down with the second hand; it pecks! It is impossible to convey just how much I love this clock...I LOVE IT!

Next on the list.

Roomies

So our once, little fuzzballs are all feathered out and living outdoors...finally! The problem is that in typical fashion the older gals are going after them like sharks! Until the new 2-month-old ones get old enough to hold their own, I have to separate them for most of their waking hours. It's not that big of a problem because I need a bit of weeding done, and the 11-month-old girlies more than happy to take care of it! Really once they've laid their egg, they're much less cranky, but I've expanded the coop outdoor area to give the young ones some space to hide and the older ones some respite from their incessant and obsessive peeping when they all are in there together.