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!

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!

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.

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.

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.