Oh, things have gotten strange at Fractured Farms. Did I mention we now have 3 roosters? Yep, the two little Silkies I picked out were boys. I had a 50/50 chance of them being boys and I tend to have rotten luck. Fortunately, Shakey and Buttercup are ok with Forte being the boss and he hasn't tried to go after them. Shakey and Buttercup have little fights but they're hysterical (I never have my phone with me when they duke it out). They'll both fluff up their necks like those gila (sp?) monsters and try to look all fierce. Then they'll jump at each other and occasionally leapfrog over the other one. I figure it's like puppies play fighting. Whatever, it's cute.
Speaking of my boy Forte, he's still quite the ladies' man, although I was wondering about him last night. When I went to close up the coop for the night, he was in the nest box that gets the most use. A rooster in a nest box. Okayyyyy...if I hadn't seen him mount the hens on numerous (numerous!) occasions, I'd start to wonder about Forte being confused about his sexuality. Hey, if anybody would end up with a slightly confused rooster, it'd be me.
The girls are little egg laying machines! We usually get 3-4 eggs a day, which is pretty awesome since there're only four layers. The kids keep finding white feathers in the nest box and Shakey is the only one with white feathers, so they think Shakey is a girl, except I've seen him (her?) crow, or try to. It's pretty funny and pathetic. Maybe I have two confused little chickens. I really think Shakey is a rooster and so does Bud. He's heard all three of the boys going off, one after the other. First Shakey and Buttercup crow, and they're pretty bad (imagine the William Hung of roosters) and then Forte will show them how it's done. I'm trying hard to get that on video too.
Since we're getting a bunch of eggs, I decided to boil up a few for lunches. I'm SO glad my friend Michelle in Texas got me that fresh egg cookbook! I had to look up how to boil eggs. I mean, I know how to boil eggs; I've been cooking since I was 10 and I used to win lots of blue ribbons for cooking at the county fair. Cooking with "real" eggs is different than using the ones from the store. The ones from the store are who knows how old, so they peel easily after they're boiled. "Real" ones don't peel that easily unless you let them sit out for a few days or boil them for 15 minutes and then immediately put them in ice water. Out of a half dozen eggs, I think only one didn't peel decently. That's not bad.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Friday, October 5, 2012
Freeze Warning
Oh, my little chickie babies are NOT going to be happy tonight. The official "killing frost" hits tonight, taking with it what remains of my garden. Pretty soon there won't be fresh tomatoes to munch on, or grass, or weeds...
I'm not sure what I'm gonna do this winter. I'm thinking about starting some tomatoes from seed and trying to keep them going under the grow light in the basement. Or maybe I can till up the ground a bit and plant a bunch of lettuce - they love lettuce and it grows pretty well in the cold.
As the nights get cooler, the kids don't really want to come out of the coop. Now when I open up the door in the morning, they look at me like "yeah, I'm not leaving this cozy coop." When they do come out, everybody fluffs up their feathers and they look like they're wearing feathered puffy coats. I haven't started knitting for them but I'm tempted.
Right now I've got the heat lamp from when they were babies in the coop and it seems to be working pretty well. Some people are really anti-heater in a coop and I can understand why (electrical fires are never fun), but they don't have a coop that's getting near-constant breezes from the river. Lemme tell ya, it gets really really cold. If the heat lamp was good enough when they were babies, it's good enough now. It's securely clamped to one of the perches and away from any bedding. The kids love it, they take turns toasting themselves in front of it, like the cats and dog do with the registers.
FYI, if you get a heat lamp, don't get one with a Teflon coating. Someone wrote in to Mother Earth News in the current issue (Oct-Nov. 2012, I think) and said when they tried one, several chickens died overnight from the fumes. Not good, and I'm really rethinking using nonstick coatings on pans.
I'm not sure what I'm gonna do this winter. I'm thinking about starting some tomatoes from seed and trying to keep them going under the grow light in the basement. Or maybe I can till up the ground a bit and plant a bunch of lettuce - they love lettuce and it grows pretty well in the cold.
As the nights get cooler, the kids don't really want to come out of the coop. Now when I open up the door in the morning, they look at me like "yeah, I'm not leaving this cozy coop." When they do come out, everybody fluffs up their feathers and they look like they're wearing feathered puffy coats. I haven't started knitting for them but I'm tempted.
Right now I've got the heat lamp from when they were babies in the coop and it seems to be working pretty well. Some people are really anti-heater in a coop and I can understand why (electrical fires are never fun), but they don't have a coop that's getting near-constant breezes from the river. Lemme tell ya, it gets really really cold. If the heat lamp was good enough when they were babies, it's good enough now. It's securely clamped to one of the perches and away from any bedding. The kids love it, they take turns toasting themselves in front of it, like the cats and dog do with the registers.
FYI, if you get a heat lamp, don't get one with a Teflon coating. Someone wrote in to Mother Earth News in the current issue (Oct-Nov. 2012, I think) and said when they tried one, several chickens died overnight from the fumes. Not good, and I'm really rethinking using nonstick coatings on pans.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Oh boy, oh boy...
Ok, I know it's been a while since I posted. I um...um...I kinda forgot my Blogger login info. I forgot which email account I used. See, between both jobs and home, I check 5 email accounts a day. The one for the Blogger account was the Gmail one I had to get when I got my smartphone and I only use it for Blogger, so it doesn't get checked a lot. I don't exactly have an IT department, so I had to assemble the archaeology team to dig through my desk until the Post-It with the log in info was unearthed. So sorry 'bout that.
Anyway, big chicken news! Apparently Forte is not the only rooster at Fractured Farms. We had a report of Buttercup the Silkie crowing, and one day when I went to see if Buttercup was going off, I discovered Shake the Silkie crowing. I caught Buttercup crowing the next day.
Oh boy, oh boy.
Everybody still seems to be getting along. Forte is actually teaching the Silkies how to crow! It's so cute. Forte will go off and then a couple minutes later you'll hear one of the Silkies croaking out a fairly decent crow. They don't seem as loud as Forte so maybe they won't make a whole lot of noise. Bud's worried about bothering the neighbors. I don't know why - my mother in law lives next door and loves all the crowing. We planted some hedges between us and another neighbor, which should help block some of the noise. Besides, we have another neighbor who's louder than all three of the boys put together!
The only thing I'm worried about is aggression but I haven't seen any yet. Forte is bigger than Buttercup and Shakey put together and he's established himself as the Big Kahuna of the coop. Maybe the Silkies are ok with him being the big boss. And maybe the Cubs will still win the World Series...
Anyway, big chicken news! Apparently Forte is not the only rooster at Fractured Farms. We had a report of Buttercup the Silkie crowing, and one day when I went to see if Buttercup was going off, I discovered Shake the Silkie crowing. I caught Buttercup crowing the next day.
Oh boy, oh boy.
Everybody still seems to be getting along. Forte is actually teaching the Silkies how to crow! It's so cute. Forte will go off and then a couple minutes later you'll hear one of the Silkies croaking out a fairly decent crow. They don't seem as loud as Forte so maybe they won't make a whole lot of noise. Bud's worried about bothering the neighbors. I don't know why - my mother in law lives next door and loves all the crowing. We planted some hedges between us and another neighbor, which should help block some of the noise. Besides, we have another neighbor who's louder than all three of the boys put together!
The only thing I'm worried about is aggression but I haven't seen any yet. Forte is bigger than Buttercup and Shakey put together and he's established himself as the Big Kahuna of the coop. Maybe the Silkies are ok with him being the big boss. And maybe the Cubs will still win the World Series...
Sunday, September 2, 2012
The Orpies have names!
I couldn't think of any good names for the 4 Orpingtons so I just called them "the girls". This afternoon, after watching Forte shag one of the Orpies for the second or third time today that I've seen, I told him, "I should just start calling you Hugh Hefner." Then it hit me - I could name the Orpies after the Girls Next Door! (I miss that show!) So now we have Holly, Bridget, Kendra and Sara Jean. SJ wasn't one of the original GNDs but she was on a few episodes and I always liked her. So as far as I'm concerned, Forte is now Hef and he has his Girls.
I wonder if the real Hef would mind me painting a Playboy bunny on the coop. Hef, if you let me I promise I'll help you with a Chickens Next Door pictorial.
I wonder if the real Hef would mind me painting a Playboy bunny on the coop. Hef, if you let me I promise I'll help you with a Chickens Next Door pictorial.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Riiiiight...
Advice for friends & family of first time chicken farmers. Planting an egg from the 'fridge in a nest box is NOT funny, especially when a chicken is sitting on it when you find it AND when everybody is asking if there's an egg yet AND in this age of smartphones and Facebook/Blogger apps.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
ROFL!
OMG, I'm sitting out here with the knitting while the kids free-range. Forte is chasing some of the Orps around and just came out of the weeds bouncing on both feet. My rooster thinks he's a bunny!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Forte's not going anywhere!
We've got us a rooster and he's not going to become dinner! Bud admitted to me that when he was looking at chicken videos online, he was kinda hoping Forte was a boy (like we need more testosterone at my house). Right now the game plan is to let Mother Nature take her course and hopefully hatch a few more babies. I mean, they were adorable at 2-3 days old when we got them but to see them fresh from the shell? That's going to be too cute. It'll probably happen when I'm at work though.
Here's a short video I did this morning, capturing Forte's wake up call. Ignore the mess on the patio, we're working on the house.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kggGbXspOMo&list=FLfFgKzI8gXgbk9Gez1qm2Pg&index=1&feature=plpp_video
Hee hee. The boys were still asleep after I took the video so I snuck into their room and played it for them. They must have jumped a foot! Hee hee again.
Forte's a good rooster. He doesn't let the girls out until he's done an inspection of the chicken run. One of the girls tried to make a run for it when I opened the door and he chased her away. I let 'em run loose in the garden in the afternoon after work but there's just not enough time first thing in the morning. He doesn't make much more noise than the John Deere factory across the river from us or any of the neighborhood kids.
I just can't believe Bud wanted a rooter. He didn't want them for the longest time, and then he only wanted 3 (good thing I didn't listen since we've already had 2 fatalities). Now he wants babies. Well, better chickie babies than people ones!
Here's a short video I did this morning, capturing Forte's wake up call. Ignore the mess on the patio, we're working on the house.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kggGbXspOMo&list=FLfFgKzI8gXgbk9Gez1qm2Pg&index=1&feature=plpp_video
Hee hee. The boys were still asleep after I took the video so I snuck into their room and played it for them. They must have jumped a foot! Hee hee again.
Forte's a good rooster. He doesn't let the girls out until he's done an inspection of the chicken run. One of the girls tried to make a run for it when I opened the door and he chased her away. I let 'em run loose in the garden in the afternoon after work but there's just not enough time first thing in the morning. He doesn't make much more noise than the John Deere factory across the river from us or any of the neighborhood kids.
I just can't believe Bud wanted a rooter. He didn't want them for the longest time, and then he only wanted 3 (good thing I didn't listen since we've already had 2 fatalities). Now he wants babies. Well, better chickie babies than people ones!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Uh oh...
We've been wondering about Forte and his sexuality for a while now. No, that doesn't mean I have a cross dressing chicken (although I did see some adorable hats at Etsy...). We just weren't sure if she was a he or not. Big old comb on top, red waddle thingie under the mouth, occasionally aggressive...but I had never heard Forte crow so I figured "no crowing, it's a hen." Keep in mind that I ordered hens.
This morning I went out to let them out of the coop and hand out breakfast. And what do I hear as I turned the corner? "Err err err errrrr..." Oh boy. Yep, Forte is a he. I read all those books and I never knew I had a rooster! Well, we feel better naming Forte after a football player now. And now the big decision - is Forte going to be dinner or do we have to start grabbing eggs ASAP (when they start laying) so they don't grow into more chickie babies? So we're down to 4 laying hens, 2 Silikes of unknown sex, and a rooster.
At least the neighbors aren't complaining. One neighbor is my mother in law, the one who buys them treats. Another neighbor has the Rhodesian Ridgebacks that occasionally leave "presents" in our yard (he's good at picking them up though). Another neighbor makes more noise than the chickens after work so yeah, I don't think we'll have a noise problem.
This chicken biz just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
This morning I went out to let them out of the coop and hand out breakfast. And what do I hear as I turned the corner? "Err err err errrrr..." Oh boy. Yep, Forte is a he. I read all those books and I never knew I had a rooster! Well, we feel better naming Forte after a football player now. And now the big decision - is Forte going to be dinner or do we have to start grabbing eggs ASAP (when they start laying) so they don't grow into more chickie babies? So we're down to 4 laying hens, 2 Silikes of unknown sex, and a rooster.
At least the neighbors aren't complaining. One neighbor is my mother in law, the one who buys them treats. Another neighbor has the Rhodesian Ridgebacks that occasionally leave "presents" in our yard (he's good at picking them up though). Another neighbor makes more noise than the chickens after work so yeah, I don't think we'll have a noise problem.
This chicken biz just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Yet another "first" in my journey of being a chicken farmer. Shakey, one of the Silkies, got trampled in the rush to the feeder this morning. So being a good mama, I picked up Shakey to console her. And she proceeded to poop AND pee on my leg. Ew. There was no time to do laundry before work, so I've got some smelly laundry downstairs and for once it can't be blamed on a junior high boy.
I've been letting the chickens do a little free ranging in the afternoons. As much as I'd love to have them free range all the time, there are hawks and eagles by my house (eagles in January), plus several of the neighbors have dogs that will come over and visit. I have no idea what Max is, but Rudo and Ellie are Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Translation - biiiiig dogs. My doxie Hershey can walk under Ellie and Ellie is only about 5 months old.
Sometimes when I let the chickens out, a neighbor dog will wander over and we'll have what a call a Dog Drill. I put myself between the dog and chickens and tell them to stop while I'm herding chickens to the door, which I always keep wide open. They seem to understand when Mama wants them in the coop and they get in there pretty quickly. Forte stands by to help herd and Hershey growls at the dog. Say what you will about little dogs but Hershey is apparently a Rott trapped in a dachshund's body when it comes to "her" chickie babies.
They seem to be handling the heat fairly well. I heard of another local chicken farmer who lost 300 chickens due to the heat so I should be grateful we only lost Bakey. Those chickens probably didn't have someone bringing them watermelon and frozen veggies when the temps were up.
It's kinda interesting, I'm starting to lose interest in eating chicken - the kind from the store. I think of those big old factory farms and how those chickens don't get to run amok outside like mine do. That's not to say we're ready to start raising meat chickens! But I think it's time to start getting more of our chicken from the farmer's market than the grocery store. Logan asked me a few questions about raising chickens for dinner. He seemed somewhat ok with it. I told him that chickens don't live too terribly long and it's nice that they can have a good life while they're alive. So maybe in a few years...maybe.
I've been letting the chickens do a little free ranging in the afternoons. As much as I'd love to have them free range all the time, there are hawks and eagles by my house (eagles in January), plus several of the neighbors have dogs that will come over and visit. I have no idea what Max is, but Rudo and Ellie are Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Translation - biiiiig dogs. My doxie Hershey can walk under Ellie and Ellie is only about 5 months old.
Sometimes when I let the chickens out, a neighbor dog will wander over and we'll have what a call a Dog Drill. I put myself between the dog and chickens and tell them to stop while I'm herding chickens to the door, which I always keep wide open. They seem to understand when Mama wants them in the coop and they get in there pretty quickly. Forte stands by to help herd and Hershey growls at the dog. Say what you will about little dogs but Hershey is apparently a Rott trapped in a dachshund's body when it comes to "her" chickie babies.
They seem to be handling the heat fairly well. I heard of another local chicken farmer who lost 300 chickens due to the heat so I should be grateful we only lost Bakey. Those chickens probably didn't have someone bringing them watermelon and frozen veggies when the temps were up.
It's kinda interesting, I'm starting to lose interest in eating chicken - the kind from the store. I think of those big old factory farms and how those chickens don't get to run amok outside like mine do. That's not to say we're ready to start raising meat chickens! But I think it's time to start getting more of our chicken from the farmer's market than the grocery store. Logan asked me a few questions about raising chickens for dinner. He seemed somewhat ok with it. I told him that chickens don't live too terribly long and it's nice that they can have a good life while they're alive. So maybe in a few years...maybe.
Friday, August 3, 2012
And then there were 7...
Can I just say this right off the bat? Having livestock sucks sometimes. We lost one of the Silkies last night, Bakey. I checked on the chickens after work, like I always do, and refilled the water and food. All the chickens went nuts when I let them loose in the garden for a bit and they all munched on some fresh greens (and left my tomato plants alone). I went out about 3 1/2 hours later to close up the coop for the night and Bakey was stretched out in the run.
I hollered for my husband and went in to try to figure out what happened. The chicken wire was intact and Bakey didn't have any marks or blood on her. Ok, that's good in a way. It's good that one of the neighbor dogs didn't get her, but now I'm stumped as to what happened. Temperatures have been up here, like they have pretty much everywhere else in the US right now. I put out water and ice cubes before work every morning, made sure the fan was on if it was going to be over 90 degrees and called the kids on my lunch hour to have them check the water. First thing I always do after work is check the chickens. (Can you tell I'm blaming myself a bit?)
Bakey got a quick burial in the backyard, near where Tweetie is. I tell myself that Bakey had a lot of fun in her 3 months of life - fresh air, river views, people to play with her, healthy food, water and plenty of tomatoes and watermelon. I know this is part of having chickens but it still sucks.
I was afraid to go out to the coop this morning, afraid I'd have more chickens dead from who knows what. The remaining 7 were just fine, although the other Silkies, Shakey and Buttercup, didn't want to come out of the coop. They kept looking out the window and their peeps sounded so sad. Shakey didn't want to be picked up and eventually came out of the coop. Buttercup stopped on the ramp and looked so sad, I picked her up and snuggled her for a bit. After a few minutes, she wanted down and ran off to play with the other chickens.
I'm worried about the rest of 'em. I don't know what happened to Bakey so I can't keep the others safe. Bud thinks Bakey had a heart attack, based on the fact she was stretched out in the middle of the run, like she was a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. I don't know if chickens can have heart attacks! A couple of generations ago, I could have gone and asked the neighbors what could have happened, or I might have known because I grew up with them. It's amazing how much knowledge can disappear in just a couple of generations.
I hollered for my husband and went in to try to figure out what happened. The chicken wire was intact and Bakey didn't have any marks or blood on her. Ok, that's good in a way. It's good that one of the neighbor dogs didn't get her, but now I'm stumped as to what happened. Temperatures have been up here, like they have pretty much everywhere else in the US right now. I put out water and ice cubes before work every morning, made sure the fan was on if it was going to be over 90 degrees and called the kids on my lunch hour to have them check the water. First thing I always do after work is check the chickens. (Can you tell I'm blaming myself a bit?)
Bakey got a quick burial in the backyard, near where Tweetie is. I tell myself that Bakey had a lot of fun in her 3 months of life - fresh air, river views, people to play with her, healthy food, water and plenty of tomatoes and watermelon. I know this is part of having chickens but it still sucks.
I was afraid to go out to the coop this morning, afraid I'd have more chickens dead from who knows what. The remaining 7 were just fine, although the other Silkies, Shakey and Buttercup, didn't want to come out of the coop. They kept looking out the window and their peeps sounded so sad. Shakey didn't want to be picked up and eventually came out of the coop. Buttercup stopped on the ramp and looked so sad, I picked her up and snuggled her for a bit. After a few minutes, she wanted down and ran off to play with the other chickens.
I'm worried about the rest of 'em. I don't know what happened to Bakey so I can't keep the others safe. Bud thinks Bakey had a heart attack, based on the fact she was stretched out in the middle of the run, like she was a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut. I don't know if chickens can have heart attacks! A couple of generations ago, I could have gone and asked the neighbors what could have happened, or I might have known because I grew up with them. It's amazing how much knowledge can disappear in just a couple of generations.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Hi gang! Sorry for the delay in blogging, but I was on vacation, and you know how security experts scream about mentioning that you're going on vacation online.
We went out of town for 3 days, which meant we needed a chicken sitter. Yeah, tried to find one of those lately? You can always find somebody to watch the dog, and as long as the litter box is clean & there's tons of food and water, cats will be ok for a few days. Not chickens. Luckily one of the neighbor kids moved off a farm a year or so ago and they raised chickens. Score! I checked with his mom, and then Logan E became our official chicken sitter.
Getting ready for vacation means more work when you have chickens. I didn't want the neighbor kid to have to deal with chicken droppings, so I mucked out the coop before we left. I also scrubbed out all the feeders and the water jug. We had orientation sessions and my mother in law sat in, in case he had questions or she needed to do something sometimes. The feed bin was full, I refilled the little bucket of grit in the coop and told my chickie babies that I would miss them.
Oh boy, did I ever miss them. When I'm grumpy at home, I go see the chickens and after a loooong drive and a crappy attempt at sleep in a hotel bed, I wanted my chickens. It was a little better the second night and we drove back the third night. Wheee, a decent night's sleep and my chickens! I was afraid they'd be mad, since this was the longest I'd ever been away from them (the dog goes nuts when we get home, the cats ignore me for a day or 2). They missed me too! I got lots of pecks and they went crazy over my blue toenails but at least I wasn't getting the silent treatment. Logan E did a great job of taking care of them so we're set the next time we go out of town.
The only bad thing is that it's been hot lately and the coop needs mucking out again. Yuuuuuuk.
We went out of town for 3 days, which meant we needed a chicken sitter. Yeah, tried to find one of those lately? You can always find somebody to watch the dog, and as long as the litter box is clean & there's tons of food and water, cats will be ok for a few days. Not chickens. Luckily one of the neighbor kids moved off a farm a year or so ago and they raised chickens. Score! I checked with his mom, and then Logan E became our official chicken sitter.
Getting ready for vacation means more work when you have chickens. I didn't want the neighbor kid to have to deal with chicken droppings, so I mucked out the coop before we left. I also scrubbed out all the feeders and the water jug. We had orientation sessions and my mother in law sat in, in case he had questions or she needed to do something sometimes. The feed bin was full, I refilled the little bucket of grit in the coop and told my chickie babies that I would miss them.
Oh boy, did I ever miss them. When I'm grumpy at home, I go see the chickens and after a loooong drive and a crappy attempt at sleep in a hotel bed, I wanted my chickens. It was a little better the second night and we drove back the third night. Wheee, a decent night's sleep and my chickens! I was afraid they'd be mad, since this was the longest I'd ever been away from them (the dog goes nuts when we get home, the cats ignore me for a day or 2). They missed me too! I got lots of pecks and they went crazy over my blue toenails but at least I wasn't getting the silent treatment. Logan E did a great job of taking care of them so we're set the next time we go out of town.
The only bad thing is that it's been hot lately and the coop needs mucking out again. Yuuuuuuk.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Wait a minute...
Ok, the chickens are supposed to be my babies. I'm the one who read up on them for years, talked Hubby into building a coop, tiled and painted said coop. I'm the one who schlepps out to let them out in the morning and put them back in. So how did it work out that the kids named the chickens?
The only one I got to name was the late Tweetie and honestly, what else do you call a big yellow chick (besides Big Bird, I guess)? Right now we still have 4 unnamed Orpies because I can't tell the difference by looking at them. I can tell the difference with one of them by sound - we have an Orp who sounds more like a goose. Right now she's Goosey. Granted, that's not too much of a surprise since we live by the Mississippi and there's Canada geese all over, but it's still weird and not much of a surprise to anybody who knows us.
Take the Silkies, for example. We have a coal black one and that's Buttercup. Why? I have no clue except that it was named by my 10 year old on the way home from Miss Effie's Farm, where we got the Silkies (Miss Eff and I went in on an order). The other two are Shake and Bake. I didn't want to call them that. A) You don't eat Silkies and B) even if you did, there isn't enough meat on their bones to make a decent chicken nugget, let alone need Shake & Bake seasoning. The boys came up with the name and I think my mother in law may have been in on that too so the Silkies remain Shake and Bake, although I call them Shakey and Bakey.
Then there's the one Orpie with a name. That's Forte and Logan named it. I'm really starting to wonder about Forte. She may be a he. Uh oh. On the plus side, if she's a she, she probably wouldn't be happy with a boy's name. If he's a he...well, that's a problem we didn't plan on. Especially since I ordered FEMALE chickens from the farm store! They were supposed to be 6 buff Orpie girls. Instead, I end up with 5 buff Orpies, whatever the heck Tweetie was, and now Forte might be a boy. Like there isn't enough testosterone in my house.
The only one I got to name was the late Tweetie and honestly, what else do you call a big yellow chick (besides Big Bird, I guess)? Right now we still have 4 unnamed Orpies because I can't tell the difference by looking at them. I can tell the difference with one of them by sound - we have an Orp who sounds more like a goose. Right now she's Goosey. Granted, that's not too much of a surprise since we live by the Mississippi and there's Canada geese all over, but it's still weird and not much of a surprise to anybody who knows us.
Take the Silkies, for example. We have a coal black one and that's Buttercup. Why? I have no clue except that it was named by my 10 year old on the way home from Miss Effie's Farm, where we got the Silkies (Miss Eff and I went in on an order). The other two are Shake and Bake. I didn't want to call them that. A) You don't eat Silkies and B) even if you did, there isn't enough meat on their bones to make a decent chicken nugget, let alone need Shake & Bake seasoning. The boys came up with the name and I think my mother in law may have been in on that too so the Silkies remain Shake and Bake, although I call them Shakey and Bakey.
Then there's the one Orpie with a name. That's Forte and Logan named it. I'm really starting to wonder about Forte. She may be a he. Uh oh. On the plus side, if she's a she, she probably wouldn't be happy with a boy's name. If he's a he...well, that's a problem we didn't plan on. Especially since I ordered FEMALE chickens from the farm store! They were supposed to be 6 buff Orpie girls. Instead, I end up with 5 buff Orpies, whatever the heck Tweetie was, and now Forte might be a boy. Like there isn't enough testosterone in my house.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Fried Chickens?
Right now, much of the US is suffering from a hardcore heat wave. We're talking Midwest fair week weather - hot and humid, making you want to watch "The Day After Tomorrow" a few times to feel cooler. And of course, I can't find the back issue of "Backyard Poultry" that has the article on keeping chickens cool in summer. I knew right where it was during our last ice storm but not now that I need it.
Yesterday could only be described by 2 words - swamp ass. Or "hotter than Hell" but that's 3 words. I filled the waterer with ice cubes before work and I had the kids check the babies every couple of hours. When I got home, they were panting and I flashed back to the day I found Tweetie panting under the coop. Oh crap. My mother in law wanted us to bring the kids in the house but Bud wouldn't go for it. Hershey the weenie dog would have loved it though.
So once again, I did the only think I could think to do - Google. A few minutes later a fan was in the coop. Yep, IN the coop. At first the chicks were freaked out by the noise, so we put it on low so they could get used to it. Right about then my mother in law came over, swearing that she could smell the chicks frying. Eventually they got used to the fan so we could turn it up. I checked later and they were standing in front of the fan, occasionally turning so their tail feathers could get cool. Sometimes one would flap a few times - I suppose chickens can have sweaty pits too and I'm not putting Right Guard on chickens.
We got a break in the temps today; right now it's a chilly 89 degrees with a heat index of 94 - much better than yesterday's 100 degrees and heat index of 116. But it's only the end of June. It's gonna be a loooooong summer.
Yesterday could only be described by 2 words - swamp ass. Or "hotter than Hell" but that's 3 words. I filled the waterer with ice cubes before work and I had the kids check the babies every couple of hours. When I got home, they were panting and I flashed back to the day I found Tweetie panting under the coop. Oh crap. My mother in law wanted us to bring the kids in the house but Bud wouldn't go for it. Hershey the weenie dog would have loved it though.
So once again, I did the only think I could think to do - Google. A few minutes later a fan was in the coop. Yep, IN the coop. At first the chicks were freaked out by the noise, so we put it on low so they could get used to it. Right about then my mother in law came over, swearing that she could smell the chicks frying. Eventually they got used to the fan so we could turn it up. I checked later and they were standing in front of the fan, occasionally turning so their tail feathers could get cool. Sometimes one would flap a few times - I suppose chickens can have sweaty pits too and I'm not putting Right Guard on chickens.
We got a break in the temps today; right now it's a chilly 89 degrees with a heat index of 94 - much better than yesterday's 100 degrees and heat index of 116. But it's only the end of June. It's gonna be a loooooong summer.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
What do chickens eat?
No, I'm not just now figuring that out! I know they get starter stuff until they're old enough to start laying, so it's "baby food" until this fall. Geez guys, give me a little credit, I did read more chicken books than baby books! Seriously, I only read "What To Expect When You're Expecting" when Logan was on the way. I have 2 chicken books alone on my Kindle, plus a pile by my bed.
I mean other stuff. Greens are a big hit. Dandelions, creeping Charlie, no-name weeds, it doesn't matter. They go after them like a PMS-ing woman at a chocolate store. So I decided to expand their diet. I raised a picky eater kid, I don't want picky eater chickens. I tried bananas the other day. Nope. I put it out before work and it was still there after work so it went in the compost. I tried bread this morning and nobody seemed interested. So much for chickens eating everything! At least they seem to be "morning people". I don't think I could handle having to make coffee for the chickens every morning and my luck, they'd only want Starbucks.
I mean other stuff. Greens are a big hit. Dandelions, creeping Charlie, no-name weeds, it doesn't matter. They go after them like a PMS-ing woman at a chocolate store. So I decided to expand their diet. I raised a picky eater kid, I don't want picky eater chickens. I tried bananas the other day. Nope. I put it out before work and it was still there after work so it went in the compost. I tried bread this morning and nobody seemed interested. So much for chickens eating everything! At least they seem to be "morning people". I don't think I could handle having to make coffee for the chickens every morning and my luck, they'd only want Starbucks.
Monday, June 18, 2012
And then there were 8...
Warning, not a happy chicken blog post. If you get sniffly easily, go get tissues before you read on.
In a previous post, I wondered when I would be considered a true urban farmer. I think I have the definition now. If you're home alone and one of the critters acts sick and you spend half the night scrunched under the coop (in Child's Pose, if you understand yoga), dripping water down a chicken's beak and the other half scouring the Internet for the poultry version of WebMD, you're an urban farmer.
It all went down last Friday. I let the "kids" out of the coop before work and everything was fine. It was a hot day, but not too bad (we haven't hit the "it's so freakin' humid you can drink the air" days yet) and they had plenty of water. By the time I got home from work that afternoon, things were different. Tweetie was scrunched under the back, lying beak down in the dirt and panting heavily.
Shit.
I ran into the house and started digging through all the chicken books I've bought over the years. None of 'em had any sort of diagnostic section, so I did what any 21st century chicken owner did. I posted an SOS on Facebook. My chicken owning friends leaped into action, suggesting that she might be eggbound (not at 2 months) or overheated. Ok, I'll buy that one. There was a steady breeze coming off the river, so I didn't have to drag out a fan. She was relatively near the water but I thought she might be too weak to get to it so I grabbed a water bottle and crawled under the coop. The Internet suggested squirting water down her with a syringe but I don't keep those things around so I poured a little water into my hand, held it up to her beak and gently poured it down her as she swallowed. I bounced between the Internet and under the coop for hours and she seemed to be ok after a while so I got the other chicks into the coop.
New problem - how to get a huge, sick chicken out from under the coop. I sure as heck wasn't going to leave her under there, not with raccoons and wandering neighbor dogs and who knows what else. There were a couple of long plastic baskets that I'd put under the roosts to serve as "litter boxes" (which they never use) so I put extra bedding in there, gently lifted Tweetie into the basket and dragged her out as I crawled backwards, still in Child's Pose, out from under the coop. I got her tucked in, so to speak, and went to bed.
I ran back out to the coop the next morning and she was gone. The other chicks were standing in a clump, watching her from about a foot away. She reminded me of a rubber chicken, except for feathers. Her feet were straight out behind her, like a rubber chicken.
Cra-aaaap.
I don't do well with dead things. If there's a dead mouse in the house, I go get Bud, my husband. Unfortunately, he and the boys were out of state on a dirtbike riding trip and wouldn't be back until the next day and there was no way I was leaving a dead chicken in the coop. I got my gloves on, pulled out the plastic "gurney", picked her up, put her in the gurney and set her in the shed.
Double cra-aaap.
We had a funeral the next afternoon, after the guys came home. The kids cried, and I cried seeing them cry. But this is farming gang, it's not all cute boots and tomatoes that cooperate. Ever since, I've been trying to figure out what happened. My chicken friends say sometimes it just happens, and Bud and my mother in law had been saying something wasn't right about Tweetie because she didn't run around and play like the others. The Silkies and other Orps are just fine. The feed wasn't contaminated, they didn't get too hot, they had water, no signs of disease or injury. It apparently was just one of those things.
It still sucks though. Farewell Tweetie, you were a good bird.
In a previous post, I wondered when I would be considered a true urban farmer. I think I have the definition now. If you're home alone and one of the critters acts sick and you spend half the night scrunched under the coop (in Child's Pose, if you understand yoga), dripping water down a chicken's beak and the other half scouring the Internet for the poultry version of WebMD, you're an urban farmer.
It all went down last Friday. I let the "kids" out of the coop before work and everything was fine. It was a hot day, but not too bad (we haven't hit the "it's so freakin' humid you can drink the air" days yet) and they had plenty of water. By the time I got home from work that afternoon, things were different. Tweetie was scrunched under the back, lying beak down in the dirt and panting heavily.
Shit.
I ran into the house and started digging through all the chicken books I've bought over the years. None of 'em had any sort of diagnostic section, so I did what any 21st century chicken owner did. I posted an SOS on Facebook. My chicken owning friends leaped into action, suggesting that she might be eggbound (not at 2 months) or overheated. Ok, I'll buy that one. There was a steady breeze coming off the river, so I didn't have to drag out a fan. She was relatively near the water but I thought she might be too weak to get to it so I grabbed a water bottle and crawled under the coop. The Internet suggested squirting water down her with a syringe but I don't keep those things around so I poured a little water into my hand, held it up to her beak and gently poured it down her as she swallowed. I bounced between the Internet and under the coop for hours and she seemed to be ok after a while so I got the other chicks into the coop.
New problem - how to get a huge, sick chicken out from under the coop. I sure as heck wasn't going to leave her under there, not with raccoons and wandering neighbor dogs and who knows what else. There were a couple of long plastic baskets that I'd put under the roosts to serve as "litter boxes" (which they never use) so I put extra bedding in there, gently lifted Tweetie into the basket and dragged her out as I crawled backwards, still in Child's Pose, out from under the coop. I got her tucked in, so to speak, and went to bed.
I ran back out to the coop the next morning and she was gone. The other chicks were standing in a clump, watching her from about a foot away. She reminded me of a rubber chicken, except for feathers. Her feet were straight out behind her, like a rubber chicken.
Cra-aaaap.
I don't do well with dead things. If there's a dead mouse in the house, I go get Bud, my husband. Unfortunately, he and the boys were out of state on a dirtbike riding trip and wouldn't be back until the next day and there was no way I was leaving a dead chicken in the coop. I got my gloves on, pulled out the plastic "gurney", picked her up, put her in the gurney and set her in the shed.
Double cra-aaap.
We had a funeral the next afternoon, after the guys came home. The kids cried, and I cried seeing them cry. But this is farming gang, it's not all cute boots and tomatoes that cooperate. Ever since, I've been trying to figure out what happened. My chicken friends say sometimes it just happens, and Bud and my mother in law had been saying something wasn't right about Tweetie because she didn't run around and play like the others. The Silkies and other Orps are just fine. The feed wasn't contaminated, they didn't get too hot, they had water, no signs of disease or injury. It apparently was just one of those things.
It still sucks though. Farewell Tweetie, you were a good bird.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Am I A Real Urban Farmer Yet?
Let's see, I've crawled under a coop in my pajamas to drag out a chicken (Tweetie) who refused to go into the coop at bedtime and I've run out in a thunderstorm in jammies to shut the storm window on the coop. I'm sending a trend in this whole "doing farm chores in my nightware" thing.
Seriously, do other people who keep chickens do any of the morning chores in jammies? I can't see getting fully dressed to do 'em, since I have to come right back in and put on my (office) work clothes. I'm a regular fashion felony. You should have seen me during the thunderstorm. It was the first one for the kids since they moved into the coop and ever since we had the boys, I can't sleep during a storm. At first it was because I knew a kid would be screaming any second. Now that they're older, it's more like wake up, nobody's screaming, ok back to bed. Except that morning. First crack of thunder and I was out of bed, yelling "THE WINDOW TO THE COOP IS OPEN!" Ok, it's a screen window but still. I grabbed my purple raincoat, put on my green boots (see why the Fashion Police cry?) and went flying out the door. The babies were awake but didn't seem scared when I closed the storm window. They were fine; I fussed until the storm was over.
The chickens seem to be used to the coop by now and I'll usually have 6 of them in there already when I go in to lock it up for the night. There are always 3 holdouts though - Tweetie, Forte and Buttercup the Silkie. I can usually get Buttercup out from under the coop after a couple of minutes. Forte and Tweetie have to be hauled out. I should rent Tweetie out as a fan on hot days - she can kick up quite a breeze flapping her wings as I put her in the coop!
I started them on fresh greens the other day. Right now dandelions are their favorite. I usually pull a few handfuls before work and toss them in. Buttercup acts like she's all that and a bag of chips as she hauls around a pile of greens bigger than she is but by the time I get home all the greens are gone.
The cats are used to the chickens, finally. Fiona and Rusty leave them alone for the most part, but I'll see them "patrol" around the perimeter of the fun and then go lie down and watch for a while. Hershey likes to herd them in at bedtime but she's developing a nasty habit of trying to nip at any feathers close to the fence. We keep an eye on her but it's still funny to watch this mini weenie dog act like a big old sheepdog.
Yeah, like anything normal happens around here.
Seriously, do other people who keep chickens do any of the morning chores in jammies? I can't see getting fully dressed to do 'em, since I have to come right back in and put on my (office) work clothes. I'm a regular fashion felony. You should have seen me during the thunderstorm. It was the first one for the kids since they moved into the coop and ever since we had the boys, I can't sleep during a storm. At first it was because I knew a kid would be screaming any second. Now that they're older, it's more like wake up, nobody's screaming, ok back to bed. Except that morning. First crack of thunder and I was out of bed, yelling "THE WINDOW TO THE COOP IS OPEN!" Ok, it's a screen window but still. I grabbed my purple raincoat, put on my green boots (see why the Fashion Police cry?) and went flying out the door. The babies were awake but didn't seem scared when I closed the storm window. They were fine; I fussed until the storm was over.
The chickens seem to be used to the coop by now and I'll usually have 6 of them in there already when I go in to lock it up for the night. There are always 3 holdouts though - Tweetie, Forte and Buttercup the Silkie. I can usually get Buttercup out from under the coop after a couple of minutes. Forte and Tweetie have to be hauled out. I should rent Tweetie out as a fan on hot days - she can kick up quite a breeze flapping her wings as I put her in the coop!
I started them on fresh greens the other day. Right now dandelions are their favorite. I usually pull a few handfuls before work and toss them in. Buttercup acts like she's all that and a bag of chips as she hauls around a pile of greens bigger than she is but by the time I get home all the greens are gone.
The cats are used to the chickens, finally. Fiona and Rusty leave them alone for the most part, but I'll see them "patrol" around the perimeter of the fun and then go lie down and watch for a while. Hershey likes to herd them in at bedtime but she's developing a nasty habit of trying to nip at any feathers close to the fence. We keep an eye on her but it's still funny to watch this mini weenie dog act like a big old sheepdog.
Yeah, like anything normal happens around here.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Forte is a pecker.
No, I'm not trying to start something with Bears fans, nor do I have a gripe against one of their players. I mean Forte the chicken. I went out to feed the gang this morning, dressed in my oh so fashionable chores clothes - pink t-shirt, pj bottoms with big peonies all over them, my bright green rainboots and a gray hoodie (ok, I slept in everything but the boots & hoodie). Somewhere, the Fashion Police are sobbing.
I started filling feeders and of course Tweetie (aka "Chickzilla") had to dive right in. She didn't want the cup in her way so she started pecking at my hand. Umm, that cup is what's getting the food into your feeder - now quit it! Then I felt somebody pecking at the top of my boots. Yep, it was Forte. I thought she wanted attention. HA! She nipped at my hand and started to go after the pj bottoms. Yeah, like I want to be pantsed by a chicken first thing in the morning. For some reason, they all hate those pjs and of course I love 'em. I guess I have to get somewhat properly dressed in the morning before I go let 'em out of the coop. Or maybe I just need coordinating jammies.
No, I'm not trying to start something with Bears fans, nor do I have a gripe against one of their players. I mean Forte the chicken. I went out to feed the gang this morning, dressed in my oh so fashionable chores clothes - pink t-shirt, pj bottoms with big peonies all over them, my bright green rainboots and a gray hoodie (ok, I slept in everything but the boots & hoodie). Somewhere, the Fashion Police are sobbing.
I started filling feeders and of course Tweetie (aka "Chickzilla") had to dive right in. She didn't want the cup in her way so she started pecking at my hand. Umm, that cup is what's getting the food into your feeder - now quit it! Then I felt somebody pecking at the top of my boots. Yep, it was Forte. I thought she wanted attention. HA! She nipped at my hand and started to go after the pj bottoms. Yeah, like I want to be pantsed by a chicken first thing in the morning. For some reason, they all hate those pjs and of course I love 'em. I guess I have to get somewhat properly dressed in the morning before I go let 'em out of the coop. Or maybe I just need coordinating jammies.
Monday, June 4, 2012
I need voice recognition software.
If you've been wondering why there haven't been many posts lately, besides photos, I'll tell ya. My arms have been killing me. I have a desk job (technically 2 desk jobs, but that's another blog post) and I do a lot of typing. Not anything that really requires upper body strength. I have found myself scrunched up in corners, using a air compressor powered staple gun to attach chicken wire to various parts of the coop this week, usually held over my head. Ow. I have spent I don't know how much time this week wishing I could go back to high school and take fewer home ec classes and more shop.
The good news is that all that stapling means that the coop is DONE! We moved the girls in on Saturday and they took it...ok. I won't say well, but ok. We had a little parade of chicken movers and it was fun seeing them in their new home. My mother in law's dog, Bella, is in seventh heaven. She can see her chickie babies whenever she wants! We still keep a close eye on them, but so far Hershey, Bella and Butter have been good. I don't think Rudo and Ellie, the Rhodesian Ridgebacks next door, and Max, the whatever he is on the other side, have notice the chickens yet though.
The chicks still haven't gotten it through their heads that they have to go into the coop at night. They can get out in the morning just fine (although Tweetie fell off the ramp the first time) but they don't understand "go inside to go night night" yet. I wait until they start hunkering down in the run and then we start moving them. That's been interesting. You put one in, go for the second and the first tries to get out. It seems to go better once we get Tweetie in - then the others go "oh, maybe we need to be in there." There's an Orpie that really needs to be seen by the Big 10 scouts though - she's good at faking going one way and then going the other. Logan says she's like Will Forte from the Bears, so she might become Forte.
What, you expect my chickens to be normal? Seriously??
If you've been wondering why there haven't been many posts lately, besides photos, I'll tell ya. My arms have been killing me. I have a desk job (technically 2 desk jobs, but that's another blog post) and I do a lot of typing. Not anything that really requires upper body strength. I have found myself scrunched up in corners, using a air compressor powered staple gun to attach chicken wire to various parts of the coop this week, usually held over my head. Ow. I have spent I don't know how much time this week wishing I could go back to high school and take fewer home ec classes and more shop.
The good news is that all that stapling means that the coop is DONE! We moved the girls in on Saturday and they took it...ok. I won't say well, but ok. We had a little parade of chicken movers and it was fun seeing them in their new home. My mother in law's dog, Bella, is in seventh heaven. She can see her chickie babies whenever she wants! We still keep a close eye on them, but so far Hershey, Bella and Butter have been good. I don't think Rudo and Ellie, the Rhodesian Ridgebacks next door, and Max, the whatever he is on the other side, have notice the chickens yet though.
The chicks still haven't gotten it through their heads that they have to go into the coop at night. They can get out in the morning just fine (although Tweetie fell off the ramp the first time) but they don't understand "go inside to go night night" yet. I wait until they start hunkering down in the run and then we start moving them. That's been interesting. You put one in, go for the second and the first tries to get out. It seems to go better once we get Tweetie in - then the others go "oh, maybe we need to be in there." There's an Orpie that really needs to be seen by the Big 10 scouts though - she's good at faking going one way and then going the other. Logan says she's like Will Forte from the Bears, so she might become Forte.
What, you expect my chickens to be normal? Seriously??
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
As you can tell from the pictures, the coop is coming along nicely. Good thing, since the girls move in in less than 2 weeks! I didn't know we were going to tile the coop and nest boxes until Bud came in to tell me he needed help. Ok, "help" turned into "guess what, you get to learn how to lay tile." It was the peel and stick kind and I didn't do a half bad job. Granted, there are some teensy gaps between some of the tiles but it's a coop! And my first time tiling! But now the coop will be easy to sweep out and mop if necessary.
The chicks are busy running amok. Four of the Orpies come running up to see me every time I go in the chick room. Most of the time I'm not wearing shoes (if the weather's warm, it's rare to see me in shoes at home) and they love pecking at my toes. Sometimes they'll stand on my feet too. FYI, chicken toes are rather warm. I went in to see them this morning before work and they started pecking at my dress pants! Ok, time for mama to go.
My mother in law's doxie, Bella, has fallen in love with the chicks. She comes over almost every day for a visit and she's really good with them. Sometimes one will wander over so she can sniff them and she just about dies from all the bliss. My dog, Hershey, is a bit spooked by them though. The first time she met them, one of them flapped her wings and Hershey freaked. Maybe it'll be better once they're in the coop. Bella will get to see them all the time!
The chicks are busy running amok. Four of the Orpies come running up to see me every time I go in the chick room. Most of the time I'm not wearing shoes (if the weather's warm, it's rare to see me in shoes at home) and they love pecking at my toes. Sometimes they'll stand on my feet too. FYI, chicken toes are rather warm. I went in to see them this morning before work and they started pecking at my dress pants! Ok, time for mama to go.
My mother in law's doxie, Bella, has fallen in love with the chicks. She comes over almost every day for a visit and she's really good with them. Sometimes one will wander over so she can sniff them and she just about dies from all the bliss. My dog, Hershey, is a bit spooked by them though. The first time she met them, one of them flapped her wings and Hershey freaked. Maybe it'll be better once they're in the coop. Bella will get to see them all the time!
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
We had some excitement over the weekend - an emergency relocation. The kids were outgrowing the brooder and they can't go in the (still under construction) coop for another 3 weeks. So Logan and I put a tarp down in our old attached garage/my future bedroom and moved the gang in there. Plenty of room for everybody!
The girls went wild. Now they can run amok, flap to their hearts' content and not get shavings in the water! For the most part they stay on the tarp but they'll occasionally wander off it a little. Honestly, few things are funnier than two chickens chest bumping each other and flapping.
We started construction on the coop yesterday (happy Mothers Day to meeee...). Bud's having a good time with it, which is good since my construction skills are pretty much nonexistent. Pictures will be posted when it looks more coop-y. That reminds me, when I get home I have to find the ad for the solar powered doohickey that looks like a pair of glowing red eyes when anybody gets too close to the coop. I predict several neighborhood kids will be freaked out (mwahahaha...).
We're still not sure all of the Silkies are girls and we're starting to think Tweetie is older than the others. The rest of the Orpies are starting to look like what Tweetie looked like last week. Whatever. As long as she's a girl 'cause I'm not ready to deal with the whole meat chickens thing. We've thought about changing her name to Chickzilla because of her size but Tweetie stuck with us. I don't care if she's older than the others, she's still one of my babies. Hmm, maybe she'll be the first to lay...
The girls went wild. Now they can run amok, flap to their hearts' content and not get shavings in the water! For the most part they stay on the tarp but they'll occasionally wander off it a little. Honestly, few things are funnier than two chickens chest bumping each other and flapping.
We started construction on the coop yesterday (happy Mothers Day to meeee...). Bud's having a good time with it, which is good since my construction skills are pretty much nonexistent. Pictures will be posted when it looks more coop-y. That reminds me, when I get home I have to find the ad for the solar powered doohickey that looks like a pair of glowing red eyes when anybody gets too close to the coop. I predict several neighborhood kids will be freaked out (mwahahaha...).
We're still not sure all of the Silkies are girls and we're starting to think Tweetie is older than the others. The rest of the Orpies are starting to look like what Tweetie looked like last week. Whatever. As long as she's a girl 'cause I'm not ready to deal with the whole meat chickens thing. We've thought about changing her name to Chickzilla because of her size but Tweetie stuck with us. I don't care if she's older than the others, she's still one of my babies. Hmm, maybe she'll be the first to lay...
Friday, May 11, 2012
Girl look at my feathers...
I stretch out! When I walk in the brooder this is what I see, all of my humans staring at me...
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
(Mental note, post more than once a week)
Today marks the beginning of Week 2 of being a chicken mama and I think it's getting a little easier in many ways. I haven't spilled water all over the place trying to clean the water jug in about a week. However, I'm up to filling the feeder 3 times a day. I think it's time for a bigger one. I only had to change the bedding in the brooder twice that first week. Now it's pretty much every couple of days and my compost bin is loving it.
The kids are doing more than eating and pooping though, they're growing like crazy! Feathers are really starting to come in on the Orpies, so we're in what I call the "teenage phase". They still look a little like cute baby chicks, but you can start to see a little of the chickens they're going to become. Every time one of them stretches out a foot and the opposite wing, I tell her how pretty her wings are and what a big girl she is. The Silkies are still poofballs with what look like legwarmers made by Uggs.
We hit a dubious milestone yesterday - one of the Orpies got out of the brooder while we were gone. I got a frantic phone call at work from my oldest, Logan. "Mom, one of the babies got out!" Kids, if you're calling a parent at work with a chicken emergency, please clearly define the problem before Mama has a coronary. She got out of the brooder, not out of the breezeway and she wasn't being stalked by the cats. He got her back in the brooder and she's just fine. "Mom, what are we gonna do?" Umm, I guess we look carefully before we walk in the breezeway and we put a rush order on coop building!
For the longest time, I was worred that my little flock didn't like me. I tried to cuddle them, skritch them, love 'em up and nothing seemed to work. In fact, I was pretty sure Tweetie hated me. Ok, granted I was probably scaring them during Pasty Butt Patrol but it beats the alternative. I thought of it like when I brushed the kids' teeth when they were tiny - you'll hate me now but thank me later. But in the last few days, 3 of the Orpies have decided they adore me. One, who I think I'll name Honey, is a sweetie. She'll hop right onto my hand and snuggle in. If anybody else tries to get on my hand when Honey is there, she'll flap her wing at 'em. I think the secret was finding out where chickens like to be skritched. Unlike dogs and cats, they don't like skritches on top but boy, you hit under their wings or on their chests and they melt. Tweetie has decided she's Tyler's chicken, which is fine with me. I just want lovey babies, I don't care who they love best (although considering I'm the one who feeds, waters, cleans out bedding...).
Today marks the beginning of Week 2 of being a chicken mama and I think it's getting a little easier in many ways. I haven't spilled water all over the place trying to clean the water jug in about a week. However, I'm up to filling the feeder 3 times a day. I think it's time for a bigger one. I only had to change the bedding in the brooder twice that first week. Now it's pretty much every couple of days and my compost bin is loving it.
The kids are doing more than eating and pooping though, they're growing like crazy! Feathers are really starting to come in on the Orpies, so we're in what I call the "teenage phase". They still look a little like cute baby chicks, but you can start to see a little of the chickens they're going to become. Every time one of them stretches out a foot and the opposite wing, I tell her how pretty her wings are and what a big girl she is. The Silkies are still poofballs with what look like legwarmers made by Uggs.
We hit a dubious milestone yesterday - one of the Orpies got out of the brooder while we were gone. I got a frantic phone call at work from my oldest, Logan. "Mom, one of the babies got out!" Kids, if you're calling a parent at work with a chicken emergency, please clearly define the problem before Mama has a coronary. She got out of the brooder, not out of the breezeway and she wasn't being stalked by the cats. He got her back in the brooder and she's just fine. "Mom, what are we gonna do?" Umm, I guess we look carefully before we walk in the breezeway and we put a rush order on coop building!
For the longest time, I was worred that my little flock didn't like me. I tried to cuddle them, skritch them, love 'em up and nothing seemed to work. In fact, I was pretty sure Tweetie hated me. Ok, granted I was probably scaring them during Pasty Butt Patrol but it beats the alternative. I thought of it like when I brushed the kids' teeth when they were tiny - you'll hate me now but thank me later. But in the last few days, 3 of the Orpies have decided they adore me. One, who I think I'll name Honey, is a sweetie. She'll hop right onto my hand and snuggle in. If anybody else tries to get on my hand when Honey is there, she'll flap her wing at 'em. I think the secret was finding out where chickens like to be skritched. Unlike dogs and cats, they don't like skritches on top but boy, you hit under their wings or on their chests and they melt. Tweetie has decided she's Tyler's chicken, which is fine with me. I just want lovey babies, I don't care who they love best (although considering I'm the one who feeds, waters, cleans out bedding...).
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
It's a girl x 9!
I feel like one of those pregnant women who swear up and down that they'll chronicle every moment of their newborn's life, only to get smacked upside the head when Baby arrives and doesn't keep any sort of schedule.
My "babies" arrived on April 23 (6 buff Orpingtons) and April 25 (3 Silkies). As I was driving to Farm & Fleet to pick up the Orpies, my phone kept going off. I had posted something on Facebook that the big day had finally arrived and all my friends posted comments like "PICTURES!!!" So every time someone posted, my phone vibrated. That's not fun when you're fighting morning rush hour traffic.
Finally they handed me a box and the chicks I'd been waiting years to have were finally mine. I got them settled in the front seat of the car and began Facebooking pictures. I got them home, got them fed and watered and had to go to work (sniff). It would be three long hours before my oldest, Logan, got home from school to give me a progress report. Hooray, all 6 were running amok in the brooder! I got a bunch of adorable pictures when I got home and as soon as I figure out how to get them off my phone, I'll post 'em.
Only one of the Orps has a name right now, a big yellow one I named Tweetie. I'm really starting to wonder if Tweetie is really an Orp since she's so much bigger than the others, but the people at Farm & Fleet swore up and down that she's an Orp. Ok then.
I wasn't able to find a place where I could just order a couple of Silkies, so I went in on an order with a friend. Tyler, my youngest, drove out to Cathy's farm with me to pick them up and we only got lost once (for me, that's a record). Unfortunately, it was freezing cold that day so Cathy suggested that I crank up the heater in the car on the way home. Not a problem, except when the hot flash kicked in. So there I was, sweating my brains out in a overly toasty car. Luckily there weren't any cops on the highway because I was kinda speeding. We got the Silkies in with the Orps and there were a few tense moments when Tweetie showed them who's boss but by the next day my little flock was getting along just fine. Only one of the Silkies has a name right now, the black one which Tyler named Buttercup. I suppose it's better than his first choice, Sgt. Bilko. I don't want to know.
I'm feeling a little calmer about the entire experience. I don't feel the need to call my kids from work the minute they get home for a status report. We weathered a couple incidents of "pasty butt". In case you didn't know, that happens sometimes when poop covers a chick's vent (or "exit") and it blocks it up and the chick kind of explodes. Not cool. That's only something you need to worry about for a couple of weeks, which is good since 2 of the little buggers peed on me while I was trying to clean them up. So it's like being a mom, except I won't have to help Tweetie with algebra.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
I ordered my chicks last Saturday, Buff Orpingtons. I had my heart set on Dorkings, both because they're an endangered breed and because I loved the name. I could picture myself calling them at night - "here Dorks, time to come in Dorks." Apparently I waited too long to order them (February was too late??) because I could find only very limited supplies, not available until months down the road. I wanted my babies grown and ready to lay before winter!
I remembered somebody telling me Farm & Fleet had Chick Days, so I headed down to put in my order. They didn't have Dorkings but they did have Buff Orpingtons, which were also on my short list. They're supposed to be good winter layers and enjoy being with people and animals. That's good, since I'm still wondering how they'll do with Hershey the dachshund and Rusty and Fiona (my cats). When the chicks are grown, they'll be taller than Hershey!
April 25 is my "due date". After I placed the order, I felt sort of like I did when I found out I was pregnant. Excited, scared, a feeling of "do I know what I'm doing" but fortunately no morning sickness. I wanted to order a couple of Silkie chickens for the kids too, since they fell in love with them at the zoo. I was having trouble finding a place where I could order just a couple so I put out a request on a couple of friends' Facebook pages and lo and behold, I found someone to go in on an order with me! No "due date" for the Silkies yet, they haven't been ordered.
Now it's time to get the brooder ready and read all the chicken books I've been buying for the past year. I think I have more chicken books than I had baby books! Now if only someone would write "What To Expect When You're Expecting Chicks".
I remembered somebody telling me Farm & Fleet had Chick Days, so I headed down to put in my order. They didn't have Dorkings but they did have Buff Orpingtons, which were also on my short list. They're supposed to be good winter layers and enjoy being with people and animals. That's good, since I'm still wondering how they'll do with Hershey the dachshund and Rusty and Fiona (my cats). When the chicks are grown, they'll be taller than Hershey!
April 25 is my "due date". After I placed the order, I felt sort of like I did when I found out I was pregnant. Excited, scared, a feeling of "do I know what I'm doing" but fortunately no morning sickness. I wanted to order a couple of Silkie chickens for the kids too, since they fell in love with them at the zoo. I was having trouble finding a place where I could order just a couple so I put out a request on a couple of friends' Facebook pages and lo and behold, I found someone to go in on an order with me! No "due date" for the Silkies yet, they haven't been ordered.
Now it's time to get the brooder ready and read all the chicken books I've been buying for the past year. I think I have more chicken books than I had baby books! Now if only someone would write "What To Expect When You're Expecting Chicks".
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