For all of the years we have had chickens, they have laid their eggs in an ancient laying box. Well, maybe not ancient, but really old. More than fifty years ago Daryl's family had laying hens and this was one of the boxes from way back then. But, those boxes were made for big egg production and the spaces were cramped and dark.
Our chickens deserve better.
So, with some help from Jonathan and Daniel,
Daryl built an egg-laying spa retreat. I love it! Ollie loves it!
Judging by the number of eggs we are getting, it is a big hit with the girls, too. We are getting between 18 and 21 eggs every day now! We are having eggs for breakfast and quiche for dinner. And sharing with our friends.
Last Saturday was one of those perfect days. The weather was breezy and warm so we spent a lot of the day outside.
Jonathan was with us. He gathered eggs and then delivered the eggs to his great-grandparents. Scout went with him.
Later in the day I took a few pictures of Jonathan. Usually, I don't let the grass get this tall and crazy, but this year, I just don't seem to care as much. In past years, the tall grass has been like noise in my head. This year, though, I am enjoying the red and white flowers on the clover, and I like to see the new spring grass swaying in the breeze. Maybe I'm just lazy and don't want to spend hours on a lawnmower. Maybe I'm just loosening up. Either way, it made a good backdrop.
The chickens hadn't spent any time out of their pen, but Saturday just seemed like the right day for a taste of clover.
This is a Buff Orpington hen. She looks just like a chicken out of a children's story book. This breed is gentle, big, fluffy, and they lay lots of eggs.
This chicken is one of the Aracaunas. They all look a little different, but I don't think I have ever had one with such a funny beard. This bearded lady lays either a blue or a green egg.
This hen is another Aracauna. See how different her coloring is? And how small her brain must be to fit in her head?
This is Scout's I-don't-like-chickens face.
The icing on this cupcake of a day was that we put together an impromptu supper (mostly Sarah did), and all of the grandkids and their parents ate dinner here.
We got baby chicks about 6 months ago. They have grown into beautiful chickens, but up until now they have been too young to lay eggs. I always begin looking for their first eggs when they are about 6 months old or when the rooster in the mix begins to crow.
The 'rooster crowing' sign was not a good indicator with this batch of chickens because he has been crowing for a couple of months. (sigh)
When I went to feed the girls this evening, though, they had a little gift waiting for me.
Five little eggs!
I'm such a proud mama and wanted to take a picture of their achievement. Unfortunately, I was not born to be a hand model.
We have the Dirty Glove Picture...
The Crooked Claw...
The Gnarly Claw...
And the Spread Finger Claw...
Not one egg was dropped in the chronicling of this event, though. Claws do come with benefits!
Ollie only likes clover flowers. He will eat the green part of the clover, but he really only likes the flowers.
I thought that he loved all of the clover. Every time I go out to see him I pick a big bunch of the green goodness and feed it to him. He always seemed happy enough. But, last week Daniel and Bella picked some clover for him. Daniel did like me and picked bunches of the whole plant. Bella, on the other hand, picked only the flowers. When they went in with Ollie to feed him, he went straight for the flowers and actually growled at Daniel for trying to feed him the green parts.
I did a little experiment with the silly rabbit and gave him a mixture of flowers and green tops. He ate the flowers and hopped away, leaving a big bunch of fresh clover.
Just on the other side of the fence, watching this whole escapade were some chickens who had not been given any clover, yet. They would have been thrilled with Ollie's leftovers.
While I watched this happening, I thought about myself. I wondered how many times God has given me a gift that I didn't appreciate. Probably daily. Just watching Ollie, and seeing the chickens' reaction to his arrogance convicted me to do better.
And Ollie had better straighten up, too. This rooster looks to be in a mood to teach him a lesson!
As a side benefit, it is fun to have them around. They are interesting to watch, they eat my scraps, and it makes our little space feel like an old fashioned farmstead. But, they aren't smart, they aren't pets, and they are a lot of work and expense.
So, without the eggs we just wouldn't keep them around. Over the past couple of months their egg production has gone from a dozen a day, down to five a day, and now only two chickens are laying occasionally. And we are feeding 25 of the little girls!
It isn't their fault, though. They are just too old to lay eggs. Over the years we have found that chickens are good layers for about a year and a half. For six months after that, they do okay. By the time they are around 3 years old, their working life is over.
If I had been paying attention, I would have added some young hens to the brood about a year ago. I wasn't though, so here we are -- store-bought eggs in the refrigerator. Yes, it's true. I had to buy eggs. In the past 15 years that has happened to me only one other time!
About three weeks ago I placed an order for 25 baby chicks. I chose three different breeds: two of them are good layers and don't mind the cold weather and the other breed lays the green and blue eggs.
One morning last week at about 7:00am, we got a call from the post office asking us to please come pick up our baby chicks. When I walked inside, I could hear the little peepers. All 25 of them came in a box that is about 12x10x5 inches.
When I first set them up in their box in the basement, they were so noisy that I could easily hear them all over the house.
As it turned out, they just weren't warm enough. I turned on their heat lamp and aimed it into the box. They grew calmer and quieter. Within a few minutes they were all just standing still soaking up the warmth. As they got warm, they got sleepy. One by one they began to close their eyes -- and lose their balance! One would fall over and knock down the few standing next to it. Then they would stand and start the process again.
The poor little critters were just exhausted. Within a 48 hour period they had been hatched from an egg, put in a box with strangers, shipped from Texas to Alabama on a truck, spent the night in a post office, and then plopped down into a cardboard box. With full tummies and a heat lamp they settled in for a nap. When I went back down to check on them, they had all spread their little wings and laid down flat on their stomachs, heads stretched out in front.
I would find myself tiptoeing around the house, trying not to wake the sleeping babies. I was careful not to bang any pots while I was cooking. That lasted about a day and then I remembered --they are CHICKENS, for Pete's sake!
Do you know how long it takes a baby chick to get old enough to lay eggs? SIX MONTHS! Due to my mismanagement on the farm, I'll be buying my eggs for six more months! I don't plan to let this happen again, though. In fact, I am pretty upset with myself to be in this position!
I feel a little like Scarlett O'Hara in this clip:
"As God as my witness, they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this. And when it's all over, I'm never going to be hungry again, no nor any of my folk."
(hahahaha)
In some of Scarlett's other words, "Fiddle-dee-dee! I'll think about that tomorrow."
I got a new lens for my camera and had to get out yesterday and play a little bit:)
The chickens were puttering around in the yard when they suddenly ran back into their house. When I looked up, I saw this hawk flying around. This is the rascal as he left the premises.
This tree stand sits at the edge of the woods right beside our driveway. I get some silly satisfaction when I jog pass the hunters sitting there in the winter. I just wave and tell Bambi to run the other way.
The tree stand is just to the right of where I'm standing to take this picture. I was playing around in Photoshop to make the picture look old.
I never get tired of the moss in the trees.
Chicken photography is so difficult. These girls just won't stand still.
The walnut crop is just wonderful this year. That is if your idea of wonderful is having hundreds of rotting black baseball size ankle twisters in your yard!
We have traveled a lot this year and in the past month I have been away more than I've been home. In the words of Johnny Cash, "I've been everywhere, man"! I have pictures to share from San Francisco and Yreka, New Orleans and Cozumel, Lanai and Oahu.
It sure feels good to be home, though. It felt good to get out in my own backyard, taking in all of its beauty and imperfections.
And, speaking of imperfections, I think I will get started on those walnuts...
Yes, this picture is fuzzy, dark and just low-down not very good. But, it was the only way to snap one of a chicken taking a bath. Miss Della here doesn't want me to take a picture of her taking a bath, a sentiment I can totally understand.
A chicken bath can be a long, drawn out process. First she digs a shallow tub in the coolest dirt she can find. In this case she is under the trampoline. Then she sits down in her bath tub and uses her feathers to throw dirt all over herself, in and around every little feather. Then comes the soaking. She just sits and enjoys the peace and quiet. After her little soak she stands up and fluffs her feathers up until she is a round ball of a chicken. Then comes the shaking off of the dirt. This process makes a little dust storm that surrounds her whole body in cool, dry cleanliness.
The day has come when I must have our little talk about the birds and the bees. When I say, "the birds", I am talking about "the chickens". And this talk doesn't include any bees.
Very intelligent people, who otherwise seem fully aware of how nature works, are confused about the rooster and the egg. The incident that forces me into having this discussion with you is a conversation I had recently with a Grown Man.
Grown Man: I think I would like to raise chickens in my backyard.
Me: Good! I think you would enjoy having them. Chickens are a little noisy, though.
Grown Man: We live on 2 acres so we aren't that close to our neighbors.
Me: Then you shouldn't have any problems with noise as long as you don't get a rooster. And you will love having the fresh eggs.
Grown Man: Well, you need a rooster to get eggs, don't you?
Dear reader, you fall into one of two groups. Either you are laughing at my little exchange with Grown Man, or you are sitting there saying to yourself, "What's so funny?"
For the "What's so funny?" crowd, here is my little lesson:
Girl chickens are like girl people. They have eggs. In girl people, we have an egg about once a month and then we get rid of it. Girl chickens get rid of their eggs every day or two. Sometimes an egg can get fertilized by a boy chicken or a boy person. When this happens, a baby will grow. In a person, the baby grows inside the mommy. In a chicken the baby grows inside the egg. But, in both cases, it takes a boy to make a baby. Without the boy, the girls still have eggs. Boys do not make the eggs, they only fertilize them.
So, the answer to the question, "You have to have a rooster to get eggs, don't you?", is a laughing, "NO!"
Of course, I didn't give the Grown Man a laughing NO. I very calmly replied, "No. Chickens lay eggs whether or not there are any roosters around."
Every time I am asked the rooster-egg question, I find myself attempting to answer in a way that won't cause the person to feel totally embarrassed when they get home and realize their ignorance. They will think about all of the millions of eggs that chickens lay each day and realize that, of course, there are not roosters going around..... you see what I mean.
They are going to feel really silly when the truth hits them.
Sunday afternoon I spent some time sitting outside reading a book and soaking up some of this beautiful spring sun. The chickens were out scratching around in the dirt and had come closer to the house since I was out, also. The birds were singing, bees were buzzing.
And then a hawk made a little screech from above our heads.
Before I share with you the "rest of the story", I want to make sure you know that hawks kill chickens. I have seen one swoop down into our chicken pen and kill one. The hawk wasn't able to pick it up to carry it out, but if I had not been there, it would have had a good, big meal. After that day we have kept either chicken wire or a roof over the girl's heads.
So, back to Sunday afternoon...
The hawk screeched and the chickens did a very funny thing. All at one time they ran under a magnolia tree, lined up in a straight line, stretched their bodies very tall, and stood totally still. They only stayed that way for about 5 seconds, but it was long enough for me to watch them and wonder to myself, "When did they practice that move?"
I have never seen the chicken line. We have heard hawks before and the girls have only run toward some shelter. This time they looked like short, feathery fence posts in a perfectly straight line. It was really funny.
One day this week I remembered my fifth grade self. When Dad was stationed at Grissom Air Force Base in Indiana I had a friend, Darla, whose family lived in a home surrounded by corn fields. Her dad worked on the farm, I think, and they had a big barn beside their house. While Darla and I were together one day we decided that her cat needed a house of its own. And what better house for a cat than a room in the barn! We took the junk out of an old storage room, swept it clean, and then added the cat furniture: a towel-lined box and an old chest of drawers. This project of ours took all morning one Saturday and I can still feel how excited we were to be on a great mission.
It was several years before I thought about the fact that the cat probably never stayed in that room for more than a few seconds. It was such an adventure for my friend and me, though!
This week I did some more home-building in a barn. It seemed like the perfect time to segregate the chickens. Separate the boys from the girls, you know.
We have had three divided, yet connected, pens for the chickens. I closed off the third section from the other two and began cleaning it out to make a home for Harry, the rooster. The outside doors were wide open so everyone could enjoy a day of freedom. Chickens are curious birds, though, and several of them stayed right with me in the pen. Their little feet were busy finding any bugs I had turned up by cleaning out the old straw.
After I added new straw and set up a temporary roost, the new room was inspected by Miss Delaware.
"Perfection, Mom!" She knows I need a little positive reinforcement.
I wondered how I would get Harry into his new home. After all, he isn't the kind of rooster who wants to be told where to go. But, when I walked away from the pen for a few minutes and came back, Harry was there! Curiosity even got to him!
And this time he brought some friends! The last time we had this guy penned up he was by himself and he escaped. Several times. (Thus, the name Harry Houdini.)
So far, all three of them seem happy and content. Now, I wonder if these hens will sit on a nest and raise some chicks. We'll see!
Last year I posted about whether or not this beautiful chicken was a hen or a rooster. I had decided that he must be a rooster because he was bigger than his sisters and had a larger comb. I just wasn't certain, though.
After several months I had changed my mind and decided that Dela must be a girl. There had not been one crow out of him/her, and no tail feathers had gotten longer. But neither had I seen any evidence of egg laying. The sex of this Delaware chicken was still a mystery.
Until today.
I was working outside when I glanced into the egg-laying nests and saw a little white tail sticking up in the air. See her on the far right?
I think she must have waited for me to see her at work because she had turned around to have her face out.
Thanks, sweetie. Mystery solved.
I still think she has a very roostery head, though.
And not a minute too soon, I may add. I have had a strict rule of not eating my friends chickens, but when they had practically stopped laying eggs, a chicken casserole was one of my options to deal with the problem. For a couple of months, I was only getting about four eggs per day from 24 hens! And, yet, they continued to eat at the same rate as if they were laying a dozen per day.
I do have more than one reason for having chickens. I like their little sounds they make all day. I like having them for the grandchildren. And, it seems right that we should have a little livestock on our 'farm' besides a dog and some cats.
But, I really like to have the eggs and have enough to share with our friends.
Thank you, girls, for getting back to work. The egg you lay may be a life you save.
I used the lawn mower yesterday. It wouldn't be correct to say that I cut grass because the only thing growing is weeds. So, I cut weeds yesterday. Just the little bit of work I did made a huge difference in how neat and clean it looks outside.
I like for the shadows on the ground from the trees to have sharp lines, not the fuzzy ones I see when the weeds or the grass is tall. Sharp shadow lines is one of my rewards for cutting grass.
I think I see the outline of a very large buck and his antlers!
The price for the beauty of the moss in the trees is the work of picking up all of it that falls on the ground. The whole time I was picking up moss yesterday I was calculating how much I would have to pay someone else to do this for me. I decided to think of it as part of my workout for the day and stop complaining in my mind!
The chickens spent some time outside yesterday, too. Harry is looking really beautiful these days.
I hope your weekend was as beautiful as ours! The weather was unseasonably warm so we puttered around outside some. Not much, just a little.
Daryl had gotten a good deal on some pansies so we planted them outside the front door. The only problem with planting flowers is Shiloh tends to think of flower beds as dog beds. She thanks us profusely, digs a little hole in the soft dirt, does about three turns, and then plops down on the fresh plants. We have found some thin, green bamboo garden stakes that we usually put out among the plants That works pretty good at keeping her out. We're all out of those right now, though, so Daryl built a fence. Don't you love it?
Don't worry, I'll be headed to Lowe's soon to find some more bamboo.
Saturday was The Girls' Day Out. They love to peck around in the yard, and I feel like a better mom if I let them out to be free every once in a while. Everyone was in a friendly mood and we had some up close and personal time together.
When we came home from church yesterday, the horse posse had returned.
I went out to have a little chat with them and made a new friend. I think I'll call her Rose.
She was even closer than this picture makes it seem like she was. Really. We snuggled a little and had a good talk, and by nightfall, they were all gone again. Are they running away from home or just visiting with some new friends? I wish I knew.
