Chickens

One of my most pleasureable "chores" every day is heading out to the chicken coop to see what gifts The Girls have given us each day.  Sometimes, if the weather is nice, I even take a book and a beverage and just sit and watch them.  They hear me coming and get all excited, because I am The Bearer of Food & Treats.

I have six chickens of four different breeds.  Each breed lays a different color and size egg.  The dark browns are from the Cuckoo Marans (Ginkball and Tweetie Pie), the little white ones are from Queenie, the Silver Kraienkoppe, the slightly larger and slightly tanner ones are from Lacey, our Silver Laced Wyandotte.  I have two chickens that were sold to me as Ameraucanas which are supposed to lay blue eggs, but one, Mrs. Flores, lays pinkish tan ones so I think she is what is called an Easter Egger, and Bossy lays the pretty blue ones.

For those of you who are wondering about Big Bird, our Polish rooster....  he is no longer with us.  Every horrible thing you've ever heard about roosters is true.  It was a fun culinary experiment to find an archaic recipe for Coq au Vin, meant for the tough, testosterone filled muscles of a rooster, but I did and he was pretty tasty, what there was of him.  Mostly leg and thigh, not much breast meet on him like one is used to from store-bought chickens.

 This lovely hen pictured below is Tweetie Pie, one of the Cuckoo Marans.  She's a sweet bird, doesn't mind being held and very large.

These two are Lacey and Queenie - both definitely "rule the roost" and boss the other chickens around (and torture them a bit) quite a bit.  Neither likes being held and both are very hard to catch.

And here is where all the Chicken Drama starts.  Two of my hens have decided to go broody on me.  Broody is where they decide that it's time to incubate their eggs.  Left to their own devices, a chicken will lay one egg every day or so.  If these eggs are fertile (if a rooster has been shacking up with the hen; hens will lay eggs whether or not there is a rooster around), they won't actually start to turn into chickens until the hen decides it's TIME.  Once the hen has a good amount of eggs (like a dozen or so), then she decides it's TIME, and she begins to incubate them.  She will sit on them all day, every day, and her warmth is the signal to the zygote (or whatever it is) to begin cell division and become a baby chick.  That is how a hen can lay an egg every day, yet they will all hatch at the same time.

So.  Enough with the biology lesson.  I have two broody hens.  A broody hen doesn't lay.  She just sits around all day in the laying box with a warm bottom like Ginkball is doing in this picture.

Mrs. Flores actually "went broody" first.  I think she is way down in the "pecking order" because the other chickens got mad at her for taking up realestate in the laying box and have pecked her pretty bad.  She's a mess - missing feathers on her neck and back.  She's the one on the left in the picture below.  They seem to be leaving Tweetie Pie alone, and now since Tweetie Pie is broody, she won't let Mrs. Flores into the henhouse and now Mrs. Flores is running around all nervous and skittery because she wants to sit in a laying box and nobody will let her.

I have tried to let them work it out, but egg production is low and so my neighbors haven't been able to buy much from me lately. 

There are many remedies for broodieness to be found on the Interwebz, so I am now trying one that makes the most sense - I've put Mrs. Flores into a wire bottom cage that is raised up so there is plenty of air flow underneath.  Apparently this keeps her from getting her bottom nice and warm and up to incubating temperature and she will soon not have the need to sit in a laying box incubating eggs that aren't there, and hopefully begin laying them again.  Or so the theory goes.  If it doesn't work, I am supposed to try things like dunking her in cool water or putting ice cubes on her bottom.  The phrase "madder than a wet hen" comes to mind and I hope I don't have to resort to that.

Chickens, chickens, chickens

All is well with the chickens.  They are growing, healthy, and I expect eggs in another month or so.

The Polish chicken has grown wattles, an attitude, and a crow.  Yes, he's a rooster.  What're the odds.  Well, 50/50, if you want to know.  We always said we wouldn't keep a rooster, so Aidan insists he wants to kill it and eat it.  He just wants to wait a few more months until he's fully grown.  Bridget and Ray want to keep him, thinking the coop is far enough away from the neighbors that the noise won't bother them.  I'm still undecided.  I don't want him terrorizing the girls, or being aggressive towards humans.  We shall see.  He is the most interesting bird in the flock, and it would be a shame to see him go.

The Ameraucanas are growing nicely and have these fluffy grey feathers on their cheeks that make me smile.  Bossy is still very bossy, and we named the other one Mrs. Flores after a favorite teacher at the middle school.  This is the 2nd Mrs. Flores chicken in our neighborhood, and you have to say the name in the high, Spanish-accented voice that the actual Mrs. Flores speaks with.  She seems confused as to why anyone would name their chicken after her.  She should be flattered.

 The Cuckoo Marans are enromous.

Lacey (on the left) is getting her lovely adult feathers from the chest working backwards.  Queenie continues to be a rather scrawney but dominant chicken.  She is one of my favorites.

Like the finches, these birds are better than TV and it's fun to sit and watch them.  Especially at bed time.  They will form a line and head up the ramp to the hen house.  Whoever is at the front of the line gets in first, and then settles down in the doorway, facing out.  The next chicken or two join them, until the doorway is completely blocked, with 4 or 5 chickens still waiting out on the ramp.  Impatient chickens at the back of the line try to walk over the top of the chickens in front of them.  Impatient chickens at the front of the line go into the coop and push out the ones already in there, usually having a disastrous domino effect on those still lined up on the ramp.

Much pushing and shoving continues until all the chickens are eventually in the henhouse, but it's comedy all the way.  Cocktail hour at our house is often spent sitting out at the chicken coop being entertained.



It isn't just chickens anymore!

Well, if I am the Crazy Chicken Lady of our neighborhood, my husband has become the Crazy Bird Man.

He's always wanted to keep birds, and so when he built me the coop for The Girls, he designed it like an aviary and used very fine mesh to enclose the whole thing.  We can stand up inside, and there is plenty of room for my seven hens and his six finches.

Yes,finches!  Three pairs (we hope to breed them - BABIES!), each of a different variety.  Gouldians (the really colorful ones), Stars (speckly with bright heads), and Owls (black, white & gray with owlish faces).

Just like with the chickens, there is Drama.  These guys are better than TV.  Turns out, Owl Finches are known escape artists, and within a few days, the female went missing.  While Ray spent time trying to find and repair any possible openings she could have used, the remaining male Owl began to set up housekeeping with the male Star.  Leaving the poor female Star alone in the corner drinking cosmopolitans and reading magazines about How to Keep Your Man.

Once Ray was sure the enclosure was secure, he went back to the breeder and got another Owl female.  She got used to the aviary right away, figured out who Her Man was, and went to work on wooing him.  The male Star became jealous and worried he would lose his drinking buddy, so he started pulling out her tail feathers.  He probably figured she wouldn't be attractive at last call if she had no tail feathers, and he could be assured of going home to the man cave with his buddy the male Owl.

Meanwhile, the male Star continues to be the most aggressive nest builder in the bunch, and his construction helper is the male Owl, not the female Star.  This is definitely a Man Cave they are working on and not a Nursery.

So, we will probably have to capture the Star pair, and isolate them from the rest of the charm (yes, that IS what a group of finches is called, isn't that charming?) so that the Stars can spend some quality time alone together, and the two boys can forget all about their college dorm years, beer pong, and whatever else has been going on in that man cave.

Chicken Chronicles

Yes, it's been a while and I know y'all have been just craving another post about my chickens.

Lots has happened with the chickens, but we all sort of got side tracked.  We lost a dear friend suddenly a few weeks ago, and it's kind of hard to want to write about any thing trivial.  Jim was an awesome man, and he and his family were among those that encouraged us to get chickens, and they have about the cutest chicken coop you've ever seen.

We decided our last two nameless birds would both be named to honor Jim in some way.  So, the Cuckoo Marans are now named Tweetie Pie and Ginkball.  Not exactly a timeless memorial, but it does make me smile and that is important.

So.  The girls have grown up a lot.  We finished the coop and moved them in.  One got injured (long story), and I was afraid we'd have to break out the axe again, but she seems to be improving steadily.

This is how the coop looks as you approach it from the woods.  It's far enough from the house that you can't see it from the house or the yard, so it's kind of nice to walk down the path and see it there under the clubhouse like that.

This is the back of the coop - those cupboard doors open into the back of the laying boxes so I can sneakily gather the eggs.

Here is the front of the hen house, with the ramp and the door. 

We physically placed the hens in at dusk and closed the door the first couple of nights, but they've got the routine down and  now we don't do anything.  Except for those few days when I had to go out after dark and lift Bossy up into the hen house because her injury prevented her from going up the ramp.  The night I went out and found her in the house with the rest of the girls gave me such a feeling of relief - I knew she was on the mend!

Happy chickens, with lots of room to roam now.

 This is Ginkball, heading up the roost.  She and her sister Cuckoo Maran (Tweetie Pie) are the largest in the flock right now.

These are Lacy and Big Bird (Aidan's chicken).  Loving the "top hat" that is growing on Big Bird.  S/he is a gorgeous chicken, and the only "unsexed" one we have.  We are anxiously awaiting further growth and hoping that it is not a rooster!

This one is Queenie.  Developing into a very pretty chicken, but she isn't growing as fast as the rest.  I am assuming it is a trait of her breed, as she definitely is one of the more dominant hens in the flock and gets her fair share of the food.

Several of the girls enjoying their outdoor roost.  There are also roosts in the henhouse.

I can't tell you how much we are all enjoying the chickens.  I love seeing a note from Bridget posted on the back door, "Gone to visit the chickens" and we as a family often wander out there together to see what they are up to.  I've been known to head out with food for them and just sit and relax for a half an hour, watching their antics.

Anxiously awaiting the eggs......

Stay tuned...  we have new residents moving into the coop with The Girls!

Hen down!

A while back, it was finally warm enough outside to move the chickens out of the corner in the garage by the hot water heaters and into the driveway for an afternoon of sunshine.

One thing I've learned about chickens so far is that when confronted with something new, they completely freak out.

They started squawking fluttering all over the place - trying to hide in the corners.  Since I speak chicken now, I could totally hear them saying "The light! The light! Stay away from the light!"

But then, the brave one, Queenie, left the seething mass of squawking feathers and tenatively stepped into the center of the box.

And then she keeled over and died.

"Hen down! We have a hen down!" I yelled.  Ray came over to investigate.  Queenie's body deflated and she spread out one of her wings as if to display all her grown-up feathers.

Ray and I were perplexed.  Queenie and Bossie both started alternating between this strange behavior and running back to the mosh pit where the rest of the girls were continuing to freak out about the glowing orb in the sky.

Eventually, the other chickens started keeling over on the floor, deflating, and spreading out their wings.

As usual, my photography skills were lacking and I didn't realize the camera was focusing on the wire and not the chicken playing possum, but you get the idea.

We figured they must be sunbathing.  A quick internet search confirmed that for us.  Apparently this is "normal" chicken behavior.

What is NOT "normal" chicken behavior is trembling and weak legs.  We really do have a hen down, sadly, and it's Baby Ducky.  It started a few days ago, so I've isolated this one from the rest of the flock.  It continues to eat and drink, and seems pretty pissed off to be missing the party in the crate next door, but this is the way it has to be until I reach some sort of conclusion about what is wrong with this chicken.

Many less-than-quick internet searches have revealed not much.  So, I figure one of three things will happen.  It will get better, it will die, or it will be wobbly all it's life.  We shall see.  Sadly, this is the one chicken that everybody gravitates to.  It could be the crazy feathers, or the diminuitive size (it's the only bantam in our flock).  Or maybe it's the "pluck" (ha!  get it?  chicken humor!) that this little runt exhibits.  I will keep you posted. 

Meanwhile, work has started in earnest on the coop so that we can move the girls out to their own apartment now that they are old enough.  Ray and I have been doing our research, talking to other chicken owners, touring local coops and cobbling together a basic plan.  Which, of course, changes frequently in the course of construction based on materials available, new ideas, and the odd mistake.  It IS just a chicken coop, after all.

But it is a literary chicken coop.  Even though the girls can't read, visitors will be able to ponder a short piece of poetry called Home to Roost, by the current Poet Laureate, Kay Ryan.  We just won't dwell on the fact that the poem is really a metaphor for one's mistakes clouding one's mind.  It's just about chickens!

Bridget has really gotten into the decorative aspects of the coop.  She asked Ray to make a couple of rooster-shaped cutouts from wood and she painted them.  They will adorn the doors where we gather the eggs.

It's coming along!  I will be excited when the girls make their big move.  And like that big, bright, orb in the sky - the changes are sure to freak them out.

Awkward Teenagers

Remember when your babies were small?  So cute, so tiny, so cuddly.

Before you know it, they are in that awkward no-man's-land between infancy and adulthood.  They are teenagers.  All angles and elbows and attitude.  All grooming problems and social problems.  Harder to control, harder to contain.  Needing their own space, experimenting with adult adornments.

Not nearly as pleasant as when they were fluffy little chicks.  Wait....  who did you think I was talking about?  My kids?  Nah.....  this is now the All Chicken All The Time Blog, haven't you figured that out yet?

So, we have entered that awkward teenage phase.  I recycled an old dog crate into roomier quarters.  I've given them little roosts to try out.  And fight over.  I'm putting their food in to dishes with higher sides so they'll quit spreading it all over the floor and pooping in it.  I probably threw out about 1/2 their food each time I cleaned the cage.  Live and learn.

Their new home.  Thanks, Reba, for the crate!

Up until now, when I would photograph the chickens, I would take them out of their box and set them on an egg crate to snap their photos.  First up during this photo shoot was one of the Cuckoo Marans.  Who immediately spread her wings and tried to fly away.  If it weren't for my lightening fast reflexes, she'd still be hiding behind something in the garage.  

Having learned my lesson, I now photograph them in their box. 

This one is "Aidan's chicken," the Polish, who will develop a big crest on it's head.  You can already see it forming.  In true teenager style, it didn't want to have it's photo taken and it looks like a chicken mug shot. 

Queenie, the Silver Kraienkoppe is turning into an attractive little chicken.

The Cuckoo Marans are not the most attractive of teenagers.

Baby Ducky always looks angry.  I would too if my adult feathers turned out like that.  Maybe I should have gotten two Frizzles - I think the other chickens make fun of Baby Ducky's wardrobe.

The Ameraucaunas are still the nicest-looking of the bunch.  Bossy is still very bossy.

Just two more weeks and they should be fully-feathered and ready to move full-time into their coop.  Hear that Ray?  Time to move the coop project to the top of your Honey-Do list!  Genius that he is, Ray decided to enclose part of the space under the clubhouse.  It'll be a nice, roomy enclosure for them.  Stay tuned!

They Grow Up So Fast!

I took these shots when the chickens were one week old.  That was just a few days ago, and already they look different again!

Some of their personalities are starting to emerge, and a few have names.  They graduated to a bigger box, and today I will work on yet another bigger box for them until they are ready to live outside.

Ray has started designing their home which is basically a coop within an aviary that will be constructed underneath the clubhouse.  Can't wait!

The biggest change, other than size, is that they are growing their mature wing feathers.  Check them out!

This is the pair of Ameraucaunas.  The one on the right is HUGE!  I call her Bossy, because she IS!

These are the Cuckoo Marans. 

This is the bantam frizzle.  For a variety of reasons to convoluted to go into, we have started calling it Baby Ducky.  It's pretty feisty, but likes to hide under the larger chicks when it is scared.

This one is "Aidan's chicken" but still yet unnamed.  It is the "Polish" style and will have a large crest of feathers on it's head.  It already has some rougher feathers up there.  This is the calmest and sweetest of the chickens so far.  I hope that means it's a girl - I would hate for Aidan to have to kill his own chicken.

This is the Silver Krainkoppe.  One of the least remarkable chicks, but she will probably grow up into the prettiest.  I've taken to calling her Queenie.

This one is "Bridget's Chicken" and she has named her Lacy, in honor of her breed, the Silver Laced Wyandotte.

And finally, Flat Stanley is visiting us this week from Long Island, and we are supposed to show him the sights of our neighborhood, then send him back home.  I thought a photo with the chickens would be good, but, it turns out, chickens are terrified of Flat Stanley.  You learn something new every day.



Meet My Chickens!

First of all, I apologize for the photos.  Photography is not my strong point, and subjects that won't pose or stay still make it even harder!  These photos were taken when my babies were two days old.

First up, we have a pair of Ameraucanas.  These are the breed that lay blue eggs.  I've always known that when I got my own flock, I would have this breed.  These two are the biggest (and bossiest) of the bunch so far.

They won't retain those beautiful markings into adulthood.  The photo below is a mature Ameraucana pullet (girl chicken).  Her legs are blue!

Next up, we have a pair of Cuckoo Marans.  The one on the left is a "feather-legged" variety and you can see she is already starting to grow feathers down towards her feet. 

This is a mature Cuckoo Maran pullet.  While not very remarkable in appearance, they lay the darkest brown eggs.  Can't wait to see them!

This little guy is the runt, and we have taken to calling it "the baby."  It is a bantam, which means small.  The particular breed is a "frizzle" which means it's feathers won't lay down.  This chicken is "un-sexed" which means there is no way to figure out whether or not it's a boy or a girl until it grows up.  If it is a boy, unless he is really really quiet, and really, really nice, we are eating him.  Circle of life, people.  Deal with it.

 Here is a picture of a grown up frizzle pullet.  If it were a rooster, it would have a larger comb on its head.

 This chicken is "Aidan's chicken."  It is a "Polish" chicken, sometimes also called a "top hat" because it grows a big crest of feathers on it's head.  Aidan was attacked by a rooster when he was small, and developed an irrational fear of chickens.  As he got older, that fear morphed more into loathing, and he always said if I got chickens he would have NOTHING to do with them.  So, being crafty, I let him pick out "his very own" chicken.  Old age and treachery trumps youth and beauty every time.

However.  This chicken is also "unsexed" and I don't want to think about it's future if it winds up being a rooster.  Aidan is already talking about moving "his chicken" into his room.

I really do hope that if it is a rooster, he is very quiet, and very nice.  They definitely grow up to be one interesting-looking chicken!

This cute little one is a Silver Kraienkoppe.  Like the Ameraucanas, she won't retain her beautiful markings but does grow up to be quite a regal-looking chicken.

And finally, this one is "Bridget's chicken."  She picked a Silver Laced Wyandotte and she will grow up to be one beautiful bird!

None of our flock have names yet, we are waiting to see their personalities emerge.  They are 3 days old now and already starting to grow mature feathers, so soon they will be in that awkward teenage phase where we wish they were still cute and small.