Chicken Lovers

The Mables trying to come in the door of the cottage.

What a time I have had with chickens these past few months.  The varmints whittled my flock from around 70 to nine!!!  Yes, that's a heart-breaker.  It involved a fence-climbing fox, a digging possum, a hungry hawk and a pack of coyotes.  Those are stories for another day.

At first I spent my days mourning, grieving and stomping the ground because of my loss.  Then I began to realize how much LESS work 9 chickens are compared to 70.  Less "fertilizer" to process.  Fewer eggs to clean and box.  Less water to carry (it's winter, and a bad one).  This farmgirl is not getting any younger.

Then, I checked my feed bill at the end of the month...ZOWIE.  Not only less work, but less cash outlay.

My husband and I have spent countless hours teetering back and forth on the pros and cons of selling to the public.  We decided in January that this would be the year to go wholesale.  So, the loss of egg sales was a mute point.

Then a friend and neighbor moved and I got their chickens.  Then someone else needed to get rid of their chickens.  All of a sudden I was up to about 30 hens and my trusty rooster, Rooty-toot-tooty.

Even in blizzards, arctic wind, snow, sleet and frigid temps those chickens were laying 1 1/2 to 2 dozen eggs A DAY.  That's a lot of eggs.

EGG avalanche.

When the weather breaks, I have a darling chicken house remodel swirling around in my mind that I want to do.  It would be better with a small flock, so I confided in my feed lady that I wanted to get rid of some hens.   As it turned out she knew of someone who might be in the market. 

However, after the arrangements were made, I began to second guess myself.

I love my hens!!  No one would take as good a care of those peeps or love them as much as I do (in my own mind).   And, I'd had a bad experience with a guy who bought some chickens from me several years ago.  He grabbed them by the toes, a leg, a wing, he didn't care as long as he got a hold of them.  I was boiling furious at his total disregard to the hens comfort and my sanity.

So, I was starting to feel like I wanted to back out of the deal.  And, by the time the new buyer came to get them I had worked myself into a good tither.  However, I should have known our mutual friend, the feed lady, wouldn't steer me wrong.  This guy was kind and gentle, not only in his handling of them but the way he spoke to them...obviously a chicken lover!!!  I almost cried I was so happy.

So, now I'm back down to 9 hens.  The new chicken digs are taking shape in my head.   Rooty-toot-tooty is happy.  I'm happy.  And, because of one more chicken lover in this world, my other hens are happy. Life is good.

That's Rooty-toot-tooty in the back. He'll be four years old this summer.  He's lost almost all his color and is a beautiful white now.  He's half Aracauna/half Rhode Island Red.

Spring On The Farm

Ok, I know I didn't like carrying water and wrestling with chicken house doors because the frozen ground bulged up but, 70 degrees and above?  Really?  One extreme to the other.

My dogs went from playing in the snow, to begging to get out of the hot sun.

Spring cleaning in the garden is always refreshing, even if it's HOT in the high tunnel!  But, complaining aside, SEEDS ARE A-GOIN' in the ground!!! Yay.  And, Sprout, my little greenhouse is full of seeds/tiny plants in pots just biding their time 'till they get to be planted outside.

 And, the rabbitry "Briar Patch" is all cleaned out.  Now if I can figure out a way to get "the girls" to like "the boy"!!

The" Penny" house (housing for a small group of chickens) is all clean.  I don't trust the weather enough to remove the heat light paraphernalia yet.  The new little "brooder" house is moved into the Penny pen and Josephine is setting on her eggs.  See her story under the page entitled CHICKENS.

My darling goats...last spring's pictures of new babies.

Cassie, my beautiful.

Briar Patch: bunny apartments and room to play on the ground.

Winter In The Valley

Buffy Penny is pretty new to the farm.

Farm life slows down a bit during cold months.  Bed time is earlier--5 pm.  Not for me, but the chickens and rabbits call it a day at dusk.  Well, truth be known I think the rabbits have gab sessions in the wee hours, but haven't caught them at it...yet.

Millie trying to decide if she wants to go out in the snow.

Tilly likes catching a ride...plus she has a better vantage point to see in the feed bucket.

 

Pepper snuggled in her apartment.  Let the wind howl, she's warm in her Angora coat!

Cherry Blossom, Nutmeg and Thumbelina chowing on the seasons last comfrey.

My beautiful Button and Daisy.  They've been gone almost a month and I still miss them.

I don't let them out on really cold days but when the sun is out and the temp is up they really don't mind the snow.  Yes, they still lay eggs in the winter!

Snappers!

We’ve had a lot of rain and that always signals the snapping turtles to begin. Walking, crawling, prowling, courting, stalking. I was doing chores day before yesterday and as I went through the goat yard gate I noticed something by my poo bucket. I keep an empty 5 gallon bucket looped over a fence pole to help me clean out stalls. (It doesn’t do much.)

Huddled down into the grass was this “small” snapping turtle. His shell was about the size of a dinner plate. He hissed and carried on like a two year old when I scooped him up in the bucket and dumped him in a galvanized tub in the back of ZuZu (farm truck). My thought was to show him to H2…my grandson. (Henry #2..actually he’s #3 but he’s #2 in his household!!) He relates to any wild thing. It brings out his own internal wildness and I mean that in a most natural good way.

This is H2 several years ago..he still fishes and he still has that big smile. Oh, and he has teeth now.

I went to town and when I got back to the farm the turtle had not only escaped the confines of the tub, he had managed to get out of the truck bed and continued his walk-about. The creek borders our property so I imagine that’s where he came from and whence he returned. I’m thankful he didn’t get one of my cats or chickens in those jaws.

Today PT Patti Petunia and I were cruising down the road and this gigantic snapper was right in the middle of my lane. There was oncoming traffic so swerving was out of the question. So I slowed down to a crawl and straddled him so as not to hit him with a tire. He was so large as I went over him the back of that prehistoric shell clunked all along the underside of PT Patti. It sounded like I was going over a boulder. In my rearview mirror he stuck out that long neck and stared at me. If looks could kill.

I’m counting the days till two of my does, Polly and Becky, have their kids. I separate them at night from the rest of my herd. This morning I was just certain I had a baby because neither of them were up yet. But, no. They were just sleeping in, which my goats do often. They can be such sleepy heads. I’ve had to wake them up to milk! So, not like chickens—I hear that cockadoodledoo every morning just before daybreak. It’s so nice to smile before your eyes are even open. I love the farm.

Mater and Chicks

Summer is drawing to a close...only a few more days until the autumnal equinox. I love this transitional time when the earth is changing from green to gold and we are changing from shirts to sweaters. The animals start growing more hair and the plants stop growing anything. Well, that's not exactly true as I am starting my winter plantings. Farmer Gary is mowing down some of the garden--like my broom corn. Last year it was 2 - 3 times my height with beautiful tassels of red seed; this year it's barely knee high.

There's nothing more refreshing than a brisk cool morning to get you going. Usually I love it; drinking hot tea up on the mountain watching Rocky and the goats eat and play--here's a photo of them. But, today we got some baby chicks so I was wishing it was a tad warmer. However, they seem snug in their brooder house with the heat lamp overhead, straw on the floor and straw tucked into the air spaces in the eaves and rounded cardboard in all the corners. What is it that makes chicks pile up in a corner on top of one another until the suffocate? Here they are in their new home. They're so stinkin' cute. It looks red because of the heat lamp. You can just see Mater in the top right.

Mater is keeping them company, at least for tonight. Mater is a little red hen who loves to eat tomatoes in the garden. Because she was covered with tomato juice --I may have blogged about that earlier--the other hens pecked her bloody. She spent a few days convalescing in sick bay then went back in with the flock. This was a month or so ago. She is now a bit slow in the mental department--having your head pecked will do that to ya. Yesterday, Rocky (our ever vigilant 14 month old guard Anatolian), who loves to "play" with the chickens, played with Mater till she was completely disoriented. No blood drawn. I let her dry off and get her wits about her--dim as they are--most of the day then at bedtime put her in with the flock. Come morning, her poor little head was once again pecked bloody. This time a lot more damage was done. I can't say why the others ganged up on her again other than chickens are ruthless about their (no pun intended) pecking order and automatically single out the weak ones. Survival of the fittest. My sick bay is in the brooder house and that's why she's in there with my chicks. I hoped that she might mother them. Although she doesn't peck at them I don't think she's feeling anything maternal.

I have a broody (broody means they are "setting"--they want to hatch chicks) Jersey Giant--Millie...isn't she beautiful. This was taken last winter--she shows up great in the snow! She's been setting on the nest for a couple weeks. I'm thinking that I may be able to sneak a couple of chicks under her (she's setting in the chicken house) and maybe she'll adopt them. Then I can move her under cover of night into the brooder house and she'll adopt the entire batch of 20 chicks. Don't worry, Millie is a huge chicken so she can accommodate that many. I wouldn't be able to leave her in the chicken house--the nest is a considerable distance from the floor and the other hens would be mean to them. I want to have time to watch Millie with the chicks in her nest before I move them, just to make sure she accepts them and they come to no harm. I won't have time to do this before Sunday because of farmers markets, but come Sunday I'm going forward with my plan. Wish me luck.

Wiley Coyote

Poor little Jack cannot catch a break. A few weeks ago his beautiful plumage and his ability to walk were greatly diminished when a dog attacked him and killed several of his Mables. He hobbles around on one leg resolutely maintaining his top of the pecking order status. My heart goes out to him.

Two days ago I glanced out the window in response to the "chicken alarm" and a brazen HUGE coyote was in the barn lot. Earlier it had been storming so I had kept an eye on Jack to make sure he got in out of the weather and had watched him go into the barn... now ten feet from the coyote. I ran toward the back door, slipped on my shoes and grabbed my gun; Cassie hot on my heels. She now jumps up and looks out the window anytime she hears the chicken alarm. I flew out the door yelling like a crazy person. Wiley Coyote had grabbed Jack but upon seeing a deranged and demented farmgirl brandishing a weapon he dropped Jack and took off toward the woods. Jack furiously flapped his wings and hopped as fast as his one leg could carry him into the yard toward me. I fired a shot for good measure knowing there was no hope of hitting the would-be chicken killer but wanting to send a message. Chicken thieves shot on sight; questions later.

The next morning Jack wouldn't come out for breakfast until mid-day; I expect he was feeling the pain of the mauling. But, this morning he hopped out to eat with the others. He's short a few (ok a lot) more feathers, but seems to be ok. I've opened up the brooder house so he can bed down easier and his three remaining Mables and one Tilly sleep with him at night; the rest of the chickens go into the big chicken house.

Yesterday Wiley came out of the gardens which is quite a ways from the main chicken hang-out area around the chicken houses and pens. Again, I fired a warning shot to keep him his distance. As I have mentioned before, this is one of the perils of true free ranging so I will continue to stand guard over my flock. Farmboy Gary built a great pen for them around the chicken houses, so when I leave I put them in their pen; otherwise they are out catching worms, bugs and foraging herbs and other greens. It's the stuff good, no GREAT eggs are made of.

Injured Chicken

After chores I sit outside just to soak up the farm. It's so peaceful, sipping my yerba mate tea, cuddling Cassie (Miniature Australian Shepherd), watching the chickens and trying to make room on my lap for various cats and either my computer or a book. Of late the mornings have been so chilly I need to wrap up a bit. Then when the chickens finish feeding they stop by my chair for a visit on their way to free-ranging. Even now they are all around me. Randy, our young Araucana rooster is practicing the art of being a gentleman by calling hens to him so he can share some tidbit found in the grass. All of my young roosters are beginning to behave like men instead of adolescent boys. The hens are grateful.

My main rooster, Jack (half Cochin) no longer has his beautiful long tail and is crippled from the dog attack. I kept waiting for him to get better but he has gotten worse. Upon examination I cannot see anything wrong, no open wounds, no apparent dislocations. It breaks my heart to see him try to keep up. But, he still crows, eats well and mates, so his spirit is strong. I decided to isolate him in the brooder house/pen. I put his three remaining Mables (Red Sex Link/Red Star) in with him to ease the pain of confinement. I'm giving him comfrey/nettle tea--he actually loves it--and soaking the offending leg/foot in comfrey. I put herb salve all over his leg and foot but he promptly removed it. I'm hoping he gets better before the weather turns cold. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

GAP

Today I begin the GAP course for product safety--Good Agricultural Practices-- offered by Cornell University. GAP Certification is not yet a requirement and is still only a suggestion from the USDA but many restaurants/grocers require it. In all probability it will become the standard and trickle down to the farmers' markets and individual farm sales. I am being proactive here and trying to stay ahead of government mandates. I hope it proves helpful and informative instead of boring and useless. After all, I am sacrificing quality garden time!

Mable is so much better today. She is perky and gobbling food right in there with her sisters. I may let them out of their confinement later today...test them to see if they remain on our own property instead of meandering over into the great abyss where the chicken-eating dragon lives-- aka the neighbors yard and German Shepherd.

All of the young Mables (20), Millies (22), Tillies (10) and Lillies (4) have reached egg-laying maturity--20 weeks. I am confident that when this hot weather breaks (yesterday we registered 111) I will have eggs to eat and share. My customers are getting restless and I fear they may wander over to other chicken havens to sample their offerings. However, there are NO eggs like Rocky Creek eggs and my customers have attested to this on numerous occasions. Perhaps it would be a good thing for them to try other chickens eggs; it will make them appreciate Mable's all the more.

And, I have had nothing but rave reviews on our garlic. This is the first time I've ever grown it and am so happy folks love it. It is a robust garlic and not for the feint of heart and just full of healthy nutrition. Life is Good.

Mable Saga- Day Three

It has been three days since the Great Chicken Massacre. The next day after the fiasco Hubs rescued a Mable literally from the clutches of the domestic predator. She appeared to be in bad shape: wing drooping, limping, lethargy, pale. I gave her some Rescue Remedy, some nettles and comfrey in her feed and isolated her in what is now the bunny pen/chicken brooderhouse (a tiny shed with roosts and hay connected to a good sized chicken wire pen with a rabbit hutch). Charlie, the rabbit, looks on with casual interest.

Recuperation Mable was pretty out of it the first day and come evening I lifted her into the brooder house and set her on a soft pile of hay for the night. Yesterday morning I lifted her outside and put her food and water beside her. She pecked at her food (oats and herbs) and drank a little water, but was still totally uninterested in her surroundings. By bedtime she hadn't changed much. Today we went thru our morning routine. She wasn't as pale (her comb was pink instead pale pink) and although she wouldn't get off her bed until I picked her up, she seemed a little stronger.

Everyday since the incident we have watched the remaining three Mables and Jack closely; sure enough two of them meander around until they finally get over to the neighbors house with the offending dog. We go over and round them up, Cassie's herding instincts kicking in and heading them home. After numerous times our frustration level has risen dangerously. Finally, this morning Hubs says we have to pen them up.

So, the only place to do that is in bunny/chicken pen where Recuperation Mable is convalescing. I'm afraid they will peck her and interfere with her healing at best and possibly kill her at worst, but decide to give it a try. I pick up the troublesome two and as soon as their little chicken feet hit the ground they begin to gobble up Recuperation Mable's special diet. The moment she sees them she limps over to them, gets between them and half-heartedly pecks at the food. She's happy to see them! They ignore her, but at least they weren't picking on her.

The third Mable had been busy laying an egg while her two trespassing sisters were on their adventure. After I collected the egg Hubs and I agreed that she should be shut up with the others as well just as a preventative measure. She was just in time to get in on the last of the gobble-fest; their little crops are stuffed and puffed out like a balloon. They also seem to love the nettle/comfrey tea that replaced their water.

I waited to see what the dynamic would be after the food was gone and they got bored. Recuperation Mable started grooming one of the newbies. I think she's definitely glad her sisters are in there with her. But, Egg-layer Mable was stressed. She was fast-pacing along the fence wall and working herself into quite a dither. After watching a few minutes I elected to let her out rather than allow her to make herself sick. The second I opened that door she raced outside and into the chicken house and up on a nest. What? She's already laid one egg today. I just checked on her a few minutes ago and she's still on the nest. I have no idea what she thinks she's doing, but she seems happy so I'm going to leave her to it. As long as she stays home and away from the neighbors, I'll be happy, too.

Hubs has the fence all marked but now we have to wait on the utility company to come out and do their thing. Hurry up and wait. Yes, in spite of it all, Life is good. :)

Perils of Free Range

It is so heartwarming to see hens pecking and scratching for worms and bugs; roosters flying up on the gate to crow; the wild, ungainly walk-run when they suddenly decide to get to the other side of the yard for no apparent reason. The freedom to roam across wide expanses of grass and herbs, to take a "spa" day and roll around in the dust, turn on their side and expose their underwing to the sun. They sing the most adorable little songs when they are happy, make a little grunting sounds then a loud cackle when they lay eggs. When I take a tea break in one of the little lounging areas around the farm, they always find me and just hang out for a while.

I had eleven of my original Mables left. They had been excellent layers until the weather reached triple digits for days on end. They were good little wives to Jack,their Banty Cochin Rooster. They came when he called; they groomed him every day; they usually acquiesced to his amorous advances and they cuddled next to him on the roost. He returned their devotion by warning if something flew overhead, a cat walked by or an innocent leaf floated down from a tree. He scratched up bugs, located new food scraps in the compost heap and defended their honor from the new adolescent roosters coming of age. I loved those little red hens.

Today, after having been out of town all day, I came home, changed clothes and when I fed the chickens I started counting, as always. Eight of my Red Star (Red Sex Link) hens were missing. Eight of my sweet Mables. Eight out of eleven. Hubs and I started looking and found three dead; obviously killed.

Free range has its drawbacks. We've always been around to drive off predators--scaring hawks by pounding on buckets (yes it works!) Trapping racoons and reprimanding neighbors dogs. The evidence points to the dogs which makes matters worse because they are sweet dogs.

So, it's a sad day here at the farm. But, the circle of life goes on and we have lots of little Mables (New Hampshire Reds), Millies (Jersey Giants), Lillies (Cochins) and Tillies (Aruacanas) who are almost ready to start laying. And, there are still three older Mables (Red Star) left.

So, tomorrow Hubs is taking some extra precautions with more fencing. But, we are still going to free-range...after-all, they are the best eggs in the world.

Good Morning

Without a doubt, my favorite time of day: early morning. There's just something about the quiet, the solitude, the feeling of having alone time with God. I make my herb tea in my ever-ready go cup, slip on my shoes and head outside. It's still dark with a hint of sunshine. The birds stir and rustle in the trees. The cats yawn and stretch. The breeze sweeps past my face and the rooster crows; I can usually tell which one it is.

I'm trying to train my chickens to scrounge for bugs IN the garden so I entice them with their breakfast in a bucket. CHICK-CHICK-CHICK. My calls are softer than they are at night when I call them home from their free-ranging. It's further to the gardens than they are used to going; some of them are real "chickens" and won't embark on the new venture.

The first morning I reached the gardens with about a third of the flock. Yesterday a few more brave souls followed and this morning I actually have a good sized bug-patrol. Cassie (my dog) and I sit down there with them for a while as they are used to being with me and I thought it may encourage them to stay. HUBS sat me up a canopy complete with chair for my garden breaks. It is so peaceful; the sunflowers look toward the sunrise, new tassels flow down the embryo corn like Rapunzel's hair; the cosmos are just beginning to bloom.

My efforts are rewarded when after collecting all the feed I had thrown out a few of my "Millies" (Jersey Giants) head into the strawberry patch and scratch around the weeds I pulled yesterday. I smile. Success comes in small increments. Life is good.

It's Here!

Planting time that is. OMGSH...I'm not reading, writing, blogging, networking or How-To-ing; I'm barely eating...I'm only PLANTING, DIGGING and aligning rows! Come on out and see our gardens in progress. Farmer Gary just completed our 9 raised beds and they are so beautiful...all full of compost and looking good. The six 30x72 beds are partially planted and marked for rows. Gary and Bob (the tractor) are hauling seasoned hay to the garden sites and I am laying it down in rows...later more will go around the plants on top of newspaper.

My LAST HERB CLASS of the season is tomorrow from 10 to noon. Stop by, learn some herb stuff and have some herb fun! Be sure to wear old clothes, this class is outside. We will be in the gardens and in the wild herbing to our hearts content.

The chicks are 7 and 8 weeks old; we have had such cold (freezing) nights we've kept on the heat lamps. Last night was finally warm enough to leave it off but the chicks were afraid of the dark! They were trampling over one another with life-threatning clamor. It took me awhile to figure out what was wrong with them so I finally put in a small wattage bulb for a night light. They settled right down and went to sleep.

I am an advocate of natural rearing for dogs/cats; check out the link on my facebook page from a vet who also recommends it. And, the Amazon widget over to the right will lead you directly to Juliette Levy's books; she is a pioneer in herbal usage and natural animal rearing.

We got our first bunny; she belonged to our grandaughter and they are moving so "Charlie" came to the farm. She's adorable and getting acquainted with the other farm inhabitants.

Our YouTube channel is growing--check it out.

Well, gotta get ready for class tomorrow then back to planting. Life is Good.

Which Came First...

the chicken or the egg? In my case, the chicken. My Mables are doing quite well. They LOVE this nice weather and even when we have a "set back" as is often the case in Missouri, they are out there scratching and pecking to their hearts content. Jack is so cute to watch with "his ladies". He calls them over to inspect an interesting tidbit in the ground, warns them when the hawks fly over and worries if they all do not stay right with him. There are some independent Mables who like to wonder around on their own and ignore his callings. Mable eggs have gotten progressively better these past weeks and oh so yummy. I think of my chickens as free-range, but, as usual, the names farmers have used for generations have been high-jacked by the commercial "farms" and no longer mean anything. If the egg-carton in the store says free-range by law it means chickens are "given access" to the outdoors, it doesn't mean they actually go outside. Some industrial "farms" have one small chicken door per thousands of hens. The outdoor facility is almost always a fenced dirt yard void of anything green or living. The new marketing term for REAL free-range chickens is pasture-raised. I suppose it is just a matter of time before corporate "farms" call their crowded dirty dead dirt yards (as opposed to living organic soil) pastures. Then, once again, true farms will have to change their description of true free-range, pasture-raised chickens. Just to be safe, BUY FRESH. BUY LOCAL, and ask questions!

Button Box

One day you're sitting snug in the house with snow and sleet flying past the window dreaming/slash/planning gardens and new chicken facilities and the next day warm breezes bring good weather and green shooting up through last years dead foliage. It's like Mother Nature is saying "GO!!"

One of the best ways she says go is with CHICK DAYS. OMGSH, I love chick days. We ordered some New Hampshire Reds (brown eggs), Armericanas (Easter eggs!), and Jersey Giants (LARGE brown eggs). They will arrive 3/17th thru 3/23rd and round out our flock of Mables. So, we are busy getting the chicken houses moved, cleaned and repaired. Stay tuned for chicken happenings! And, Mable has given us enough eggs to sell, so stop by and treat yourself to free-range eggs...there's nothing quite like them. (See 2/15 blog for nutrition)

Have also started cleaning up the yard and gardens...tulips are peeking out just to make sure it's warm enough. The wind helps keep the muddy-mucky-mess in the barnyard at bay but I still find myself walking with big convict boots caked with mud.

The burn on my finger from the melting plastic is healing nicely. It is about 1/8th inch deep and still painful to the touch. I'm still putting lavender essential oil on it and also applying my Herbal Aid Salve and keeping it band-aided during the day.

Be sure to check out our recipe of the month on our website: www.RCVfarm.com
Chef Gary hasn't quite decided which one he's going to post, but if it's as good as last month's asparagus, it will taste great.

I am making cup cakes for my grandsons birthday today...now if I can figure out how to get some herbs in them....hmmm

If you are wondering (or even if you've totally forgotten the title of today's blog) how Button Box applies to anything I've said so far: My grandma's button box was extraordinary. At least to an eight year old. It held so much more than buttons: lace snippets, grandpa's overall snaps, a horseshoe nail, a Texas sea shell. Then, my mom's box was somewhat different representing her hoarding proclivities: fish hooks, newspaper clippings, jewelry. Of course, I carry on this informal tradition with my own button box, except mine has grown to several boxes! And, since I write, I apply everything to writing. So, THIS button box is a compendium of farm miscellanea. Love it. Life Is Good.
PS Chef Gary just decided: Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Don't let the benign name fool you; this recipe is KICKIN'! It should be on-line by noon.