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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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??