Chickens

We love our chickens, and we love their eggs. They were our first farm animal. We bought an original flock of chicks about 6 years ago, with some friends. They raised that first group in two baby pools in their garage. They were suburbanites with 6 kids and wanted the experience. Once they were grown into pullets we moved them here, into the coop on wheels that Handyman had built.

They were a terrific flock, half Ameracauna (Easter-Eggers who lay green eggs), and half Rhode Island Reds, with a few unique specimens thrown in. We lost several to hawks, especially in the beginning. We had made them a wonderful aviary with pvc and poultry netting. It eventually got destroyed in a windstorm. Then for awhile they were free range in our orchard. It was absolutely delightful and hilarious to have chickens on the front sidewalk, looking in the sidelights at the front door!

Ameracaunas are wonderful, and they can vary greatly in coloration. We had one who was completely white, named Tweety. We knew she was an Ameracauna by her green legs. We also had one black hen. Her feathers are tipped with gold, and she has the puffy cheek feathers so common to EE's. Even as a chick, she was striking. Our friends named her Falco, because she looked like a falcon.


One spring early on, Falco went broody. This is when a hen decides she wants to hatch chicks. They refuse to get off the nest, no matter what. While they are resistant to getting off the nest, they also lose most of their fear of you in their zeal to sit. Usually hens raised without mothers (like ours), do not go broody.

Falco was a zealot. It went on for weeks. But we had no rooster, so there was no chance this was going to work out. I belonged to a great website called Backyard Chickens, and they have lots of bulletin boards for chicken lovers. I happened to see a post offering bantam hatching eggs, for a low paypal payment, including shipping. So I bought a dozen.

They arrived by Priority Mail the next day, wrapped in bubble wrap.

Bantams are small chickens, about half the normal size. I had had bantams as a teenager. They are terrific. More personality than 3 full-sized chickens. Beautiful colors, lots of fun. Since the eggs are tiny, we put all 12 under Falco.

She was unsure for the first day. Probably ready to give the whole thing up. I think she had already been broody for almost a month at this point! An entire sitting would only take 21 days, so I'm sure her hormones were ebbing. But she was swayed apparently, and commenced sitting. (I'm sure she was happy that I was no longer stealing her eggs.)

At about 2 weeks we candled them, and by golly--there were multiple ones that showed distinct promise. This being our first time to candle eggs, we were too unsure to take any away from her, even if they appeared empty. And on the night before day 21, we moved her and her nest, into a baby pool in our garage.

Sure enough, she hatched them! It was the most glorious, wonderful experience ever. Four fluffy little tiny chicks. We were enchanted. Then our stupid corgi decided he should catch one, and that was then end of that one. Kids learn about death...check that lesson off the list.

Fortunately we had 3 left. And spoiled they became. These were purebred bantam varieties. It turned out that we had a hen and rooster Buff Brahma Bantam and a Blue Cochin hen. They were tamed from birth, just about and became our favored pets. They grew up in our flower garden and we learned the vocalizations of the mother hen. The special sound that says, "DO NOT MOVE! EMMINENT DANGER!" and the one that says, "Come and get it!"

She was a wonderful mother. And she never went broody again. I have several scrapbook pages of "the chicks", and their miracle mother, Falco.

I tell you all this to say, that Falco is now the oldest and only hen left of our original flock of 28. I have one other hen, who I bought as an adult and several little bantam hens raised by their mothers, (who think I am Godzilla.) And Caesar, the little bantam rooster, is the only sibling remaining of his hatching. He is an older guy now, too.



So now we're having the urge to start a new flock. Little #3 doesn't remember raising chicks, so it's time to start thinking about another go-round. We've been through hawks, coyotes and even a loose dog massacre (someone else's dog). Having birds will definitely toughen your hide. But they are fun and the eggs just can't be beat. I purchased organic large eggs at the store, and my homegrown ones are still more orange and robust.

Another idea rattling around in my spring feverish mind...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My one fan (ccw) told me to my face the other night, that he was bummed that I wasn't blogging. Frankly, I'm bummed that I'm not blogging. I think about blogging every day. Then I think I must be pretty vain to think that my life is so entirely interesting that I qualify for daily blogger status. I mean how many times can you blog about where you have found socks? Or how many types of manure you handle in one day? (Bet I'd win.)

But really, the world is turning here at Netherfield. On Valentine's Day, Handyman's dad went into the hospital, and stayed for a long time. They tried to send him to a rehab a couple of times, but he got bounced back and then after yelling in my face that he wanted to die, he up and did just that.

It was my first up-close experience with death of a close loved one. I got to experience every single step of it, even the final end. I don't know how people go through this stuff without knowing Christ personally. What a bulwark it was for me to have God to rely on in all the various stages, with all the people I needed to help, in all the ways I was called upon to help.

All these decades of reading Dear Ann Landers and Carolyn Hax, and Billy Graham and all those columns in the magazines about life, have really helped. I was able to walk through those weeks without regret, saying what I needed to say and thanks to my dad, peeking during an altar call, I was able to reassure a lot of people that Grandpa knew Christ. And that was the ultimate peace for me and Handyman. We could say goodbye.

It was the first funeral I went to as a representative, rather than an attendee. And our friends came out of the woodwork--and what a blessing that was. You know how you never want to go to a funeral and you wonder if it's even worth your time...well it is. We were so blessed by the friends who toiled through an insane traffic jam to see us, just briefly--who bought us food because the stupid funeral home didn't even have a coffee pot that worked, who put on lunches for a huge entourage after the way-out-of-town burial--who colored with our kids in the funeral home kitchen so we could keep shaking hands. Note to self: remember how many ways you can be the body of Christ.

I actually stood at someone's bedside as they passed into eternity and I had absolutely no fear in my heart because I had said goodbye, days before, face to face, when he knew what I was saying AND because I knew he had asked Christ into his heart. Honestly, I always wondered if he remembered that he did that, and I probably should have talked more about it with him, but "that peace that passes all understanding" thing? It's real.

I could walk my kids through this first major loss of their lives with confidence in God and offer them peace for their broken little hearts.

Spring is coming now, I think. We have chicks in our attic room, with their mothers. We have contractors bidding on some alterations to our roof that are LONG overdue. My new horse is in training and I also have the opportunity to ride some other nice horses, to get legged up. #1 thinks she might get her drivers license this summer and #2 and #3 are going to school in the fall. Should be an interesting summer.

I have about 295 blogs in my head regarding the switch from homeschooling to public school, that I will be happy to unload at some point, but we're wrapping up some strep throat, orthodontia and raccoon attacks, so I really have to get out of this chair. Oh, and I didn't get pictures of the big crawdad I caught in the pasture this morning, complete with tail full of caviar, I mean eggs. I did release her into the creek and boy was she happy...

I haven't been posting because..........

because I gave up complaining about the weather for Lent! It's true. One of my daughters gave up wearing pants (which is wearing a little thin with her at this point.) I couldn't really think of anything I relished that I could possible give up, without harming someone else..."I won't clean the chicken house for Lent".

Then it dawned on me. I love to complain about the weather. It is the one thing I allow myself to complain about. I complain heartily. I complain about the weather with regularity. It is the outlet for the sarcasm I try to banish from the rest of my speaking day. I had to admit; I LOVE complaining about the weather.

And this state gives me so much material to work with. So, I gave up complaining abou the weather for Lent. It is a big sacrifice this year, because of the ridiculous statistics we are racking up here. But, I shan't go into them now.

Our life is roller-coastering right now as Handyman's father has been in the hospital since Valentine's Day. Two times he was sent out to rehab (after having a feeding tube put into his stomach). And two times he has been rushed back to the hospital. Today he is being moved to hospice. It is not going to be a long stay.

I am confident that he answered the call of Christ in the recent past and can rest assured that he will be free from his failing physical body soon.

My New Year is just getting started...

Due to family illness and the glorious weather, our holiday season dragged out for quite awhile. Which isn't always a bad thing. It was fun, there was lots of food and I got a boot dryer!

What woman doesn't want/need a boot dryer?! Any woman, like me, who treks to her barn and henhouse four or more times a day, needs a boot dryer. I also had to pull out the YakTrax I got last year. These are stretchy traction devices for the bottoms of my boots. My chickens are envious, but I think their little toenails would get in the way.

It wouldn't be winter here at Netherfield/Neverdone if we didn't have a chicken in the kitchen and this year is no exception. One day last week, I was setting out the little banty hen who has decided to go broody (it's winter you moron!)and I discovered she had been sitting on/in a broken egg. Ugh. It's way too cold for that. At first I set her outside to get some water, thinking I had pulled out all the egg bits. But a Rhode Island Red came over immediately and started pecking at the little gal, so it was off to the kitchen for a grooming session.

Keep in mind that we do have a slop-sink bathroom off our kitchen, so I am not talking about bathing a chicken in my kitchen sink! And what morning would be complete with bathing a chicken. Chickens are not big on bathing, even when they need it and this little gal was no exception. She was fortunate to get a warm water bath and I discovered her entire belly is completely bald! She has made a big brood patch on her belly to keep the eggs warm!

So then I got started blow-drying. Other than becoming alarmed when she could see herself in the full-length mirror, she LOVED being blow-dryed on low. She almost sprawled out on my lap to help! And there's no better smell for your kitchen than a boot-dryer on high with a little blow-dried chicken on the side!

Every day is another mind-numbing routine of busting and refilling water bowls for chickens, barn cats and horses. There is a heater in the horse water tank that runs on a timer and this week I have been shoveling clean snow into the tank. If it would ever get warm enough to melt just a little, the snow on the steel barn roof will melt and channel into the tank. But for now, it's easier to shovel powdery snow than to haul water out there.

The barn cats sit faithfully on their little heating mats and eat their canned food quickly. Whatever freezes in their dish, I give over to the dogs to remove! Keeps them busy and entertained.

Then there's the never-ending process of emptying the muck tubs of their frozen loads. The colder it is, the more the horses stand in the barn and fill their stalls. I got in a little bit of trouble last year for breaking too many muck tubs by dropping them on their sides to dump them. Cold and plastic don't always work well. So my solution this year--always have Handyman dump the muck tubs. It's worked great so far.

A three-hour tour...

Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea put in just south of the driveway.
As they head for the rapids, a friendly Mandan watches...
...and helps them over a shallows.
They turn east at the juncture with the overflowing creek.
and approach the notorious poultry penitentiary, nearly submerged.
Passing between the garden plot, piled high with "horse product" and the chicken "pen", they continue eastward, toward the "fort".
A friendly "native" joins the little band.
Another low spot. Lewis has to drag the dugout.
View from the fort.
Approaching Trail's End.

Balmy!

This is just to remind me that I don't live on Hoth.

It's so cold and has been for so long that today's high of 22 with sunshine made me feel happy enough to go to the barn sans hat! I got a giant bag of frozen carrots in the garage to give Reno hope for spring. He can smell 'em a mile off. In fact, I had put two little carrot stumps into my coat pocket several days ago and forgotten them and when I was putting on his blanket the other night, he started backing away from me as I was trying to buckle the front. He never does that and he was not stopping and then I remembered, or thought I remembered that there might be some carrot stumps--He knew it! He smelled those old wilty things and wasn't taking no for an answer. Good thing I found them or I could have become the victim of a stall rage incident.

Today, I whipped off the horse blankets and shoveled that water tank full of snow (turning on the heater, of course). The poop is still frozen solid and the hay supply is dwindling, but I saw a huge flock of robins near the henhouse and I am thinking we're about to turn the corner. Well, except for that entire month of February. The dark doldrums lie just ahead...after the Cardinals kick some serious steel batootey tomorrow!! Gotta go make some chili, make some velveeta rotel dip and start on my taxes...

I've got my Gurney's catalog laying on the dining room table and I am still trying to figure out why we live this far north. We're lovin' Netflix here in the sticks, although I miss the librarians, a little. We've watched Tropic Thunder, The Mummy--Curse of the Dragon Emporer, Becoming Jane, Dark Knight (not me), IronMan (not me) and tonight, Mad Hot Ballroom (it's about middle schoolers.)

Time for dog dinner!

How cold is it?

I hate the cold. I really hate the cold. There hasn't been much wind and we're way behind on the snowfall; but I really hate being cold. Thank goodness my MIL bought me the second pair of fleece-lined jeans or I'd still be wearing the pair I put on in November. Once they're on, I can't bear to part with them. I am a poster child for effective winter gear. I was selling fleece-lined jeans to some lady at my chemo treatment six weeks ago! I have cuddle-duds. I have Muck brand boots. I have a down-filled coat from LL Bean that MIL gave me before I got married (!!), that I still wear when it is colder than all get out. It's the best. I have smart wool socks. I have these fleecey pajamas that actually make me almost too warm. I have a bed heater. The only thing I don't have is a butt-warmer in my car. Handyman got used to one in a truck he uses on occasion and I think we'll be having one in our next truck, whenever it comes.

In fact, Handyman appears to be weakening on the whole seasonal-demeanor issue. He seems to be suffering this year more than ever. I never noticed it too much. It was always me whining and complaining. He is the one who taught me about great outdoor gear. He made sure I acquired all the right stuff. I made sure we got a good bed warmer. But this year he has been whiney and slow to get outside. I may be making headway with the whole "let's retire further to the south" thing.

But back to the headline--how cold is it? It's so cold that I bedded my stalls with straw last week. Seeings how I have next-to-no sawdust left and it was going to be -15 overnight, I felt they had to have something more than their blankets between them and the ground, so I used a couple bales of free straw that came home from a shoot. Looks great, makes a big mess to clean up.

It's so cold that Handyman broke three muck tubs trying to empty them. This brought on the "don't fill tubs with wet sawdust when it's zero degrees outside" lecture. Also noted that the $17 muck tubs from Tractor Supply did not break. Only the $6 from Menards. (Note to self.)

It's so cold that my plastic muck fork doesn't really cut it since the piles are rock hard. So, the effective method is pick them up...by hand. Grab one dooper with your (gloved) hand and the whole pile comes with.

It's so cold that Reno had frost forming on his ear hair. It's so cold that the snow on the barn roof won't melt so we had to haul water twice last week. It's so cold that the heat lamp has been running in the chicken house 24/7 for more than four days.

It's so cold that my million-dollar geothermal furnace has been running on "auxiliary" (read BIG BUCKS) power for four days plus. It's so cold that all my gloves have frozen snot on the back of all the thumbs.

It's so cold that we're burning through the hay and will be needing to get more--of course. Of course the RCI vacation guide came in the mail this week...wonder how much a horse-sitter charges for January, if I provide all the polar fleece you can wear?

Dear Old Dad had to haul water for me yesterday and today he is bringing SAWDUST! I can't remember the last load of sawdust we got! Unfortunately that means I have to remove all the sodden straw that I had to use this past week...so out to the barn I go to muck, on this one glorious day of temps above 35--it's a divine gift to give me hope that there are better days coming!

I might lay on the asphalt just to pretend it's summer!

I can't ever go back...

I spent some formative years on a flat piece of cornfield that had been left with about 5 scraggly big trees in a fence row. My parents sculptured it to their liking--you can do that when you purchase earth-moving equipment for fun--and forced me into landscaping slave labor for eons, but it turned out really well. Then I went to college.

Then, like most people in this country, I moved into the city for a job. I had apartments, rental house and in-town neighborhood life. Where, when I washed my dishes in the sink, I could wave at my neighbor while she washed dishes in her sink. And where my oldest roller-bladed on my next door neighbor's paved driveway, RIGHT under my dining room window. The neighborliness was fun in some ways. Anyone who had Handyman for a neighbor was blessed.

Then one day, one of our kids' friends pulled too many needles off a pine tree when he was playing...and then Handyman's bike got stolen out of the garage while we were home and then there was the guy sleeping off his drunk in the BACK OF OUR CAR in the driveway. And the dogs couldn't even get their heart rates up going back and forth across the yard...

There is something so wonderful about opening your kitchen door and sending your 5 yr. old out with a baggie for chickens and two dogs to accompany and never having a worry. There's no neighbors to irritate, there's no roads to fret over, there's no pristine suburbia to damage...I don't know how others do it. We don't need no stinkin' curtains! ;)

We can dig big holes if we want and just leave 'em. We can pile leaves higher than our heads and then, leave 'em. We can fling manure over the paddock fence and pretend we're fertilizing the yard. We even sprinkle grass seed down the center of our driveway in the spring--to make Handyman's childhood fantasy come true.

We've already struggled through several years of removing the previous owner/tenants' piles of crapola, here and there and everywhere. We unloaded a lot of brightly-colored Little Tykes yardware this summer and now, we just don't really want to go anywhere very often.

We like to sit and watch our leaves, or our tomatoes, or our great blue herons, or the bats at night or those ridiculous chickens. We mow and shovel and rake and seed and sit and listen and see stars that our friends in town can't find on a good night.

Yeah, the manure is continuous, but it grows great tomatoes. The mowing is pretty constant, for a season, but frankly we fight over who gets meditation time to mow, now that #1 is heavy enough to keep the motor running when bouncing over the terrain. The driveway can be a pain in the winter, but that's why God invented 4WD--and my littlest buddy can climb real apple trees, with real apples and eat them and throw them and play outdoors without supervision for hours.



The only thing we're missing is some surf...

Think I'm ready

Well, since I start chemo this week, I tried to get all the little things wrapped up for the animal/winter scene in advance. I got the heater in the paddock water tank. Both tanks are full-to-brimming from last week's rain. I got all the plexiglass put in the chicken house windows. Handyman and #1 carried in the saddles and brought up the medicine box from the barn. And, Handyman brought home some mouse traps for the hayloft. My mom has repaired the mouse damage in Reno's blanket, so it is ready to roll. And this week, while I'm "laying around", shedding--Handyman is going to get going on the stall mats and then the south outside wall. Yea!

I can't wait to have level flooring in the stalls, with no pee holes! Hoowhee! I know, it takes all kinds. Everybody has their dream--mine is a stall floor with cushy bedding and no pee holes.

The hens have finally caved and started laying again. We're getting 4-6 eggs per day--up from ZERO for a month! Yikes. It's not a henhouse, it's a "fowl" nursing home. #1 will be fashioning little walkers for them. Lemme tell you, they are SICK of apples. Now that they live in an orchard, it was fun in the beginning. They refuse to look down now. It's denial.

Glory and Grief

The circle of life keeps on turning here at Netherfield. It has been a busy couple of weeks, with dog obedience and agility taking up two nights a week; Mowing our property, keeping Grandma and Grandpa's yard mowed (when it gets fertilized with enough chemicals to keep the lunar surface lush), trying to ride horses and do laundry and weed the garden, there aren't enough hours...


Thank heavens for daylilies. I love flowers that thrive on neglect. They are so reliable and cheerful. I love the colors and the variety and they don't call out to me, like so many other things here, saying, "You're not getting this taken care of." They instead bulge with buds and cheerfully open, day after day after day. No muss, no fuss. Thank heavens for daylilies. Here are some of the colors blooming at my front door right now...








On a sad note, old John, my crippled, almost blind rooster passed on last night. I knew it was coming and was thankful that he could go peaceably. #3 reminded me that now he can be in heaven with our precious little bantam hen, Sara. That was a comforting thought for all of us. We still miss Sara.

I loved it when I would carry John out of his winter "stall" in the kitchen in the mornings, to head out to the horse barn for the day and he would crow while I was carrying him. He was so excited to get out and strut his stuff. Lately, he has not been up to that level of activity, but he did enjoy sitting on the warm driveway and would perk up whenever we came out with crusts or popcorn or something.



My season of life housing chickens in my kitchen has come to an end. For that, I am glad. But he was a kind soul and almost everyone was thrilled to pet or hold a big rooster. It was almost like holding an eagle in your arms, really. He had a regal look about him. I am so glad I went the extra mile for him. And I am thankful for having known him.

Never forgotten...

Creepin' crud

This week's excitement, other than 428 4H activities in three nights, with two kids and two dogs, is that the horses have some kind of skin issue that is itchy and leaving bald patches on their bellies and legs.

Reno started this thing last fall. I didn't know if it was fly bites or what, but I was inconsistent with the Fung-Away spray since I didn't know for sure that it was "fung" or not. Eventually with winter, it seemed to go away and I thought we were over it.

I kept noticing Princess biting her sides and I kept thinking, "oh no! She's getting some sort of spring colic or something! Eeeek!!" Although I am very diligent about time spent out on spring grass. Then when I turned her out the other day I thought I noticed something weird on the side of her large zeppelin-like barrel and sure enough, it was a bald patch with some red dots!! Great!! And upon closer inspection, there were several more on the other side and on her hind leg.

Of course, not to be outdone, Reno had already got his belly up and running, including the patch right in the elbow of his front leg, on his hind gaskin from last summer and he rubbed his butt so hard on the webbing stall door thing that he bent the two eye-bolts beyond recognition. I did mention to Handyman that they had seemed somewhat small for a horse application. He replied that he had not planned on 1200 lbs. of buttocks to be pressing on them for some duration. I replied that he obviously was new to horses. They have been upgraded.

Sooooooo, before the heat wave broke last night, I bathed two horses with betadine shampoo twice this week. The Fung-Away is almost gone and I am emptying last summer's tube of Vitamiacin. There seems to be some improvement. Princess's spots already look like hair is starting to come back. I wish I had some clippers to trim "gorilla boy" who started shedding in February and is still not finished.

I'm also trying to dig out the stalls and get all the bedding replaced next week. I'm guessing that it might be bug-related. The bedding is fairly old and what with those chickens/feathered rats in there all the time, who knows what they're bringing...(in all seriousness, I don't think my fowl have anything foul.)

On another note, Handyman was seriously bitten by "the Love Machine", our cat Jake. We were in the ER last Friday night for an hour and a half, watching Jay Leno and getting IV antibiotics. PTL--no infection! The doctor told us they usually get infected and it can be VERY serious business very quickly. I am VERY thankful.

#3 is going for surgery one week from Monday...to have her bladder issue fixed, once and for all. The other two have been through this too, so we know the routine. Just praying that all goes smoothly. When #1 had her surgery, our terrific pediatric urologist who operated on her found 2 ureters on one of her kidneys. One had been hidden in all her xrays--he was surprised! Just another documentation of her "special-ness".

Handyman got a call to shoot Barak Obama this week in a 3-camera interview. Unfortunately, he was already booked on an auto auction. He was bummed because he wanted to see how "Barry" handles himself out of the spotlight/when the cameras are off. Later that day Handyman talked to his friend who was crewing-up the job and found out that BO's campaign was saying they couldn't pay the regular rates for the guys; "They didn't have enough money." Hmmmmmmm...how does that work? This is the champion of the working man, right? Thank goodness for the auto auction.

I wrote down 6 things for dinners this week and made sure I had the ingredients for them all. I didn't assign them or anything, just kept the list in the kitchen and that made things a lot easier. However, I fell off the wagon with my laundry baskets. They're everywhere and they're overflowing and I hate it. So, it shouldn't be too hard to get back on that. I also cleaned the bathroom downstairs rather than waiting for #1 to do it. Rather than being angry with her every time I walked into it, I decided that really, it's my house and I'll have to clean it all when she's gone, so I might as well take 15 minutes of my time to make me AND Handyman happy, than grouse around for a week and then clean it anyway. She'll have her own bathroom someday, and I'll bet she figures it out pretty quickly. Either way, this makes me happier.

Haven't planted the garden yet, and thank goodness--it's going to be 47 on Monday. This state hates me...but it has been sunny. My climbing rose is making progress and my parents brought 4,295 suckers off their lilac bushes. We managed to plant 10 or 11 of them. It'll be great if they all take. My rhubarb looks great and the crabapple and cherry trees are starting to bloom. If the dogwoods get frozen out this year, AGAIN, I'm putting the house up for sale.

Oh, one last thing...I found a hen with an apparent broken leg in the barn. I assume a horse stepped on her. Handyman and #1 played orthopedists and splinted her up with popsicle sticks and duct tape. It'll be two weeks tomorrow and she has been rehabbing under the patient, protective wing of Sir John Middleton, the toeless rooster, who LOVES her. They snuggle together at night and he stands over her during the day. I don't know what he'll do when she returns to the flock. It's precious.