Snakes on an (Earthly) Plane

Seriously, don't do it

As a Texan, I take trespassing very seriously. Trespassers with two, four, or zero legs are not welcome at the ranch. But my chickens, being avian dinosaurs, apparently have other ideas when it comes to their legless cousins.

It would seem that the chickens do not mind so much when their cousins come to visit and help themselves to a few eggs. The last couple cousins consumed ceramic eggs, and by the power of Natural Selection, the remaining ones only seem to like the genuine article.

So today, while opening the gate for Doctor Dolittle, I encountered a zero-legged trespasser. At first I thought it was a stick, so to be sure I gave a neighborly "Hi there" while reaching for the board that holds the gate open. As my face got closer to the object, I could see that it was organic and scaly.

Experienced warrior that I am, I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and aimed the board at the snake's head. I missed. I missed because it lunged at me while I was swinging at it's head. I stuck a blow to the snake's tail, causing it to snap like a scaly little whip, right in front of my face. The board shattered with the force of my mighty blow and half of it sailed over the snake's head toward mine. I danced away as my digestive exit blinked out an S-O-S.

Screwing up my courage, I returned to the fray. Keeping my eyes open this time, I managed to share a blunt opinion with the trespasser. Accepting my irrefutable logic, the snake departed this plane.

Water Moccasins shouldn't mess with Texans

Ever the professional, Doc suggested I wash my hands. My hands are not the only things that need washing....

Chicken Lytle and the Prisoner of the Nest Box

I went to collect eggs today and found Mr. Big standing watch by the nest box. Suspicious, I shooed out the chickens and peeked inside.

The nest box was occupied by my scaly nemesis. Calmly I squeaked, "Get the camera" to Doctor Dolittle. Thus armed, I collected evidence.

Snake, caught red-somethinged

See the bulge in the middle? That was my other ceramic egg. Last time it came to visit, it took a ceramic egg and left behind a snakeskin. Apparently this snake has a veeeeeery elastic digestive exit.

The snake seemed a little drowsy after eating De's and Vo's eggs along with my second ceramic egg. It started paying a little more attention when the flash went off. 

Face to face with creepiness

It tried to make a break for it by going out the back of the nest box through a narrow gap, but was foiled by the ceramic egg bulge. Then it tried to escape by charging toward me, making my digestive exit pucker. The snake, intimidated by my standing hair and bulging eyes, turned away and headed for the pop door.

Doc and I persuaded the snake to relax with gentle application of blunt opinions. I got the dubious honor of carrying off the limp critter on the end of a shovel.

We inspected the rest of the coop, flock, and chicks. Everybody was OK and we retired to the house for a victory meal.

Later, while Doc was watching Voldemort and his scaly friend, I slipped out to retrieve the ceramic egg. I washed it about a bazillion times and then put it back in the nest box.

Mayhem managed.


Update: A local codger gave me a couple tips on how he manages snakes around his coop. He got a 7' x 100' roll of deer netting. Then he strung up spirals of the deer netting around the chicken run, sort of like the concertina wire you see in Hollywood prison camp movies. He said the snakes get caught in the netting all the time.

Mayhem -- Snakey Snakey

Two weeks ago my Buff Orpington went broody and camped out in the downstairs nest box. I took advantage of the situation to put eight eggs under her. Three days later they were gone.

Lacking any more of my genetically superior eggs, I grabbed the mutts that were on the kitchen counter and stuck them under the oblivious broody. Then Doc helped me convert the chicken jail into a broody nest. We moved her upstairs without losing any of our fingers and settled in for a long hatch. Yesterday, egg candling revealed progress, so happy day right?

The other hens kept laying in the downstairs nest box. I was consistently getting eggs every day, except for the occasional shell-less egg from Vo.

But this morning, things took a creepy turn.

I went to the coop and immediately noticed the chickens were behaving strangely. Instead of rocketing out of the coop, they reluctantly looked out the pop door around and stayed inside. I eventually shooed them out and went to collect eggs.

One glance inside and I immediately left the coop.

Evidence that a snake was here

I collected my wits and went back for a second look. I poked my camera into the nest box for a reconnaissance mission and scrutinized the picture. Seeing no immediate threat I took more pictures and bravely ran away.

Two weeks ago I saw a Water Moccasin in the driveway, but it slipped away before I could ask it to park elsewhere. Last week I found a four foot long snakeskin near the front gate. Today I find another snakeskin in the nest box. This is bad.

Missing egg

It ate the eggs. Again. And it ate my ceramic egg, too.

Snake owes me a dollar.

Update: Settled up with the snake.

Broody Hatching -- Learning the Routine

My broody Buff Orpington started with a clutch of 8 eggs, which got consumed by some unidentified stealthy predator. I converted the Chicken Jail into an upstairs broody nest and set her up with four more eggs.

After some hasty experimentation, I have developed a brilliant plan for their daily routine. My flock, ever so fond of change, has started reluctantly adapting. In the process they have found new ways to express their annoyance and disgust and irritation and chickeny rage.

Most things stay the same. I open the coop at the crack of noon. Mr. Big leads De and Vo into the pen for a bit of dust bathing and snacking on any treats I may have provided. Buffy stays on her nest and gives me the stink eye while I gather eggs from the downstairs nest. She fluffs and squawks and pecks when I lift her up to look at her eggs to make sure there are eggs under her and not a snake or an empty spot.

I return to the coop in the late afternoon and lead the flock to the tractor so they can feast upon weeds and leaves and blackberries and bugs and invisible bits of deliciousness. Mr. Big has learned the routine already and proudly leads the girls straight to the tractor. Oh the chickeny joy!

Once they are situated I shut myself in the pen and screw up my courage to face Buffy. Once again she fluffs and squawks and pecks when I lift her up. When I set her down, she fluffs and huffs as I close the side door of the broody cage. Then she fluffs and squawks and pecks when I lift her up and carry her to the snack bar in the pen.

Once outside she snaps out of her trance. She drinks and preens and eats and preens and preens and drinks and preens and drops an enormous stinky broody poo.

While she is busy I block off the eggless but oh-so-desirable bottom nest. When she is ready, she walks up the new ladder into the broody cage and settles back on her nest.

Then, just as darkness approaches I close up the broody cage, open the pen, and release the others. If I am a little late, Mr. Big will have some choice words for me. Then he hastily leads them back into the coop for a good night.

At least, that is how it is supposed to go....


Update: Gave up on the tractor once the flock got an Easter scare. Just have to juggle a grumpy hen while keeping an eye on a perturbed rooster.

Broody Hatching Disaster

I placed eggs under my broody buff orpington just 3 days ago. I already have a failed hatch. 100% failed. Argh!

Worse, it is a mystery. But I have my suspicions....

I went to remove Buffy from the nest today so she could get some food, water, and exercise. She squawked and pecked and fussed and huffed. But once she was off the nest there were no eggs to be found!

Eight eggs vanished into thin air. There were no sticky spots. There were no eggshells. There were no signs of struggle. Just empty space where my carefully hoarded eggs used to be.

Doctor Dolittle and I examined the coop for evidence and found none, so we fell back on speculation. We considered human theft, but rejected that due to the undisturbed gate of annoyance and latching system of despair. We considered snakes due to the recent sighting of both copperhead and cottonmouth venomous snakes, but rejected it since Buffy would probably have blinded them or been bitten. We considered crows, rats, opossums, raccoons, and foxes, but rejected all of them since Buffy would have forced them to deal with her before surrendering the eggs. We reluctantly considered that Buffy might be the culprit.

Another egg eater? Were her eggs too thin for her enormous bulk? Did she grow so ravenous that she consumed her potential offspring?

Could be....

So, for now Buffy and her new clutch of randomly selected eggs are residing in chicken jail with food and water right in front of her. This ought to reduce possible predation by snakes, crows, rats, opossums, raccoons, foxes, and the other chickens. Vigorous patrols by Doctor Dolittle and a certain part-time chicken farmer should limit the risk of two-legged predators. This leaves Buffy.

If Buffy eats these eggs, then she will be fired as a mommy chicken. Lucky for her we now have two desirable nest boxes that the other hens will actually use.

Yet another high maintenance hen. *sigh*


Update: The eggs were still under her this morning. But she rejected the nest box in favor of the jail floor which has lots of wood shavings. Doc says she probably got too warm.

Update: People keep saying it must be a snake because of no mess and that a hen in broody trance will not notice a snake under her. I really appreciate this information, but I hope you will forgive me for wishing it not to be so, especially since the cottonmouth is still at large. Snakes are creepy.

Update: Learning the new routine.

Update: Y'all were right. I was wrong. It was a snake. Here is the proof.

Springtime for Predators

Spring has finally sprung here in Texas. A late frost turned most the the budding greenery into dormant brownery. This week the second attempt at buds finally got going.

Now the pasture is a riot of growth. And my birds can have none of it.

True, Mr. Big has turned his fancy to thoughts of love, or at least the physical manifestation thereof. The current egg fertility rate is evidence of his diligence.

But the rest of the wildlife has been fecund as well.

Yesterday a copperhead snake fussed at me. A few blunt remarks persuaded the snake to relax and hang loose.

The worst has been the hawks. They are everywhere. You can hear them all the time. And you can see them flying low, searching. They are so numerous that even the crows are intimidated.

So the chickens remain incarcerated in their fully enclosed pen. Except for Mr. Big, they are bored and frustrated.

Luckily for them, the sudden growth has included weeds. I pulled some out and delivered them to the pen. Oh the chickeny joy! They dove in with single-minded ferocity. They scratched and pecked a little and clucked and pecked a little more.

Guess I have another farm chore.