Fantastically Fast Mr. Fox: A Sad Tale

Dr. Gooch was already out at the beach.  I had spent the previous night and all morning packing the car and the children to make the drive out to join him.  As we spoke on the phone I wondered aloud whether the chickens (3 laying, 3 two months old) would be okay if we left the coop door open so they could freely go in and out while we are away (three nights).  

Yeah, they'll be alright.

If I had only thought through it though.  If I had just remembered that most likely it had been a fox that had come not weeks before this and taken our young barred rock rooster (that we were saving to eat ourselves).  If I had realized that this fox would have informed the whole fox family of the jackpot of plump free-ranging chickens at Cicada Cottage (left unattended).  [Because it felt like they just KNEW we had left them unattended].  

If only.  But I didn't think this through and the rascals and I came home to several piles of feathers in the yard.  The remains of six last struggles.  I had not been there to protect this helpless hens and they were gotten.  

Over the phone, we said over and over to each other, "I'm just so sad about our chickens."  It was a surprising feeling that I experienced due to the loss of poultry mainly used for eggs and eventual meat.  Yet, they had become a part of our daily ritual. 

They emerged from their coop as we did from our beds.  At the sink, washing cereal bowls I would watched them excitedly strut around the yard beaks to grass grabbing bugs and greens for breakfast.  They would come running from resting spots when I brought out the "chicken bowl" of kitchen scraps or a cup of wheat.  They selflessly gave three gorgeous eggs each day.  Then, as I washed the dinner dishes at the end of a day they would march up that skinny ramp to roost for the night and we'd send a runner down to lock 'em up for safe sleeping.

We helped each other and gave what was needed.  Except for that fateful night of neglect.  It was the first night we were away for there were only 3 eggs layed.

We made the horrid discovery Monday night.  Dr. Gooch found some young hens needing a home on Craigslist and by Friday at 1pm we had six new chicks.  Three black, three white.  We hope they'll be laying eggs come Fall.  

A Happy Ending.

Saturday Night Turn

I walked around the yard tonight after I put the children in their beds.  Prodded out of doors by their promises to stay put, I took a turn around the yard.  All the way around.  I do this a handful of times during the day if I am home.  I've been home most of the day feeling miserable with a cold.  

On these turns, I usually pocket a few eggs from the coop.  The other day I pulled up all the lettuce that had begun to bolt and then harvested the red kale (all of this made room for the beans, which I planted on a morning turn today).

I discovered a good sunny spot for the fig tree and Dr. Gooch planted it.  It's his fig tree, so his approval was crucial.  He may beg to differ (meaning he may not believe that I believe his approval was crucial), but it's true to be sure.

On a turn tonight I plucked a twig from an unknown-to-me tree (to take inside and give it the ol' dichotomous key treatment), I frowned at the eggplant that don't seem to be thriving as well as I'd like, but saw that my cosmos and wildflowers that I poked into the ground last week have sprouted.  It's all this wonderful spring rain we've been getting.  I watched the hens.  The younger girls (now three) like to head in for the evening earlier than the older ones.  But Gloria and her gang kick them out and demand first choice as far as roosting goes, so the non-layers have to step aside and then resettle themselves.  Every single night.   The same ritual.  Our lone rooster was killed the night before last.  All that remains is a smattering of pretty black and white feathers by the compost pile (Dr. Gooch disposed of the mangled body before the rest of us had even stirred). I wonder if they miss their man.

Then, it begins to be too dark to see anything but the silhouette of the three great Willow Oaks against the sky.  I come in.  The unknown tree is another (younger) Willow Oak but with larger leaves.  The chickens are settled.  All six.

I'll go to bed congested but content to have this little bit of earth for the six of us.

Happy Mother's Day.

RIP,  Mister Rooster

Raising Chickens is Like Raising Children

Unclipped beauties.

Clipped by Mama, with Hazel's helping hand.

Fiskars!  Who woulda thought.

Wisteria vine leaves, a treat for a job well done.

You want them to fly.  You do.  They need strong wings.  They need to be able to escape predators and lift themselves up onto the roosting bar.  They need strong wings for soft landings.

But, while they are young and "still laying" they need to stay close to home.  Home is where they can strengthen those wings in safety and security.  Home is where there is good food to eat, so they can later recognize the bad.  Home is a testing ground for choice-making.  A soft place to land where mistakes are absorbed and lessons learned.

Smart, loving discipline to a child or clipping the wing tips of a hen; there is no difference really.

We hope "Sally" will stay inside the fence now.

*A Big Hello to all you No Big Dill readers!!

After Rain

I have a question.

If I didn't know they were weeds, would they bother me as much as they do?

Speaking of weeds, the chicks are growing like one.  After a whole day spent in the yard they learned:

 how to run away from the older hens who got a bit bossy with these newbies, 

how to drink from the waterer, and 

how to seek shelter under the coop when it rains.  

I think they are ready and will go out full time starting tomorrow!!  Aren't they pretty with their black and white feathers.? Can you spot the rooster of the bunch?

First row is leeks.  They have a ways to go before they are ready to be sliced and made into potato-leek pancakes (just dreamt this one up, we'll see).  The two rows behind are the green onions.  I find quite a bit of pleasure in plucking a few out as the need arises in the kitchen.  Am I weird?

This is a tulip who has lost its petals.  But, at our house, they are suspiciously seen around the house being used as magic wands.

Finally, THIS is blooming.  It is such a show off plant, covering itself with these delicate little rose-like creamy yellow blossoms.  It is a perennial (vigorous) plant.  Ben (my brother studying landscape architecture), I cannot seem to track down the name, any ideas.

I spoke with a friend the other day about what to plant.  We both shared the opinion that perennial trumps annual any day.  There is nothing more rewarding than watching your garden come to life in full color without having to plant a thing.  This is ours out front, the day after a night of lovely rain.  Hardly anything is blooming yet besides the bulbs, but look at all the different colors of foliage!

How To Raise Chickens: 10 Easy Steps

1.  Build a small coop in the back corner of your yard with a roosting bar and laying "boxes" inside.  Or a small portable A-frame.
2.  Up to four Chickens per laying box.
3.  Get a water and feed apparatus.
4.  Line with straw.
5.  Make sure you have a fenced in yard if you have "close" neighbors
6.  Make sure you are not attached to any plants, shrubs or grass or mulch in your backyard.
7.  Buy a few chicks at around $3/each.
8.  Raise to 6 months for laying hens. (Kill and eat any roosters in the batch)
9.  Collect eggs.
10.  Make omelets galore.

(Repeat steps 7-10)