Early Easter Bunny Visit

My chickens had started their lives with me with daily access to an open-top chicken run. Then they decided to free range themselves.

Free range was OK for a while. They happily turned my yard into a shredded wasteland of unpalatable weeds and chicken poo. When hawks started visiting I covered their pen with bird netting, but still let them free range every few days.

Then nature caught up with us. A hawk killed two of the hens. So I stopped the free range activity and kept them penned up all the time. This caused some chickeny frustration, though they did eventually adapt, leading to a lot of fertilized eggs.

Recently I let them spend some time in a tractor. They were cooperative for a couple visits. Then they decided they would rather free range. Oh the chickeny joy! For three full minutes they paraded around their old run , squawking and scratching and pecking and gobbling up weeds and seeds and bugs and leaves and invisible bits of deliciousness. I saw no hawks, so I decided to roll with it.

Just as suddenly they decided they did not want to free range at all. They raced to the pen in the most dignified manner possible, like a bunch of chubby mall-walkers in spandex. Dumbfounded, I stared at them. They looked at me. Then they looked at each other. Then they looked at me again.

Casting about, I spied the terrible threat that made them run for safety. It was a single rabbit, complete with twitching nose and chewing on a bit of grass.

I tried to explain it was not the Easter Bunny, but they were having none of it and guarded their eggs with zealous pacing and stink eyes.

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.

Semi Free Range Treat

My chickens decided to free range themselves last year. I went along with it until a hawk killed two hens. Then I locked them up tight and refused to let them roam no matter how much they cussed at me.

Then, to make matters worse, one of my chickens started eating eggs. I identified the culprit and jailed her. Now my daily routine includes separating working girls from pen walkers.

Last night Vo, the egg eater, laid a shell-less egg on top of her cage before I had a chance to put her up. This morning I put her out with Mr. Big while De and Buffy remained in the coop to do their duty.

As usual, Mr. Big started to freak out as soon as he finished doing his duty with Vo. Then De and Buffy started squawking up a storm. The ruckus was so savage that Doctor Dolittle called me out of work to make sure no chickens were being consumed by Vermicious Knids.

As soon as I got there the chickens got quiet and tried to convince me that no wild parties were taking place. Nobody here but us chickens.

I collected eggs, evicted the two hens, and started giving the flock fresh water. The day was sunny and warm so I gave the dusty birds a good spray with the hose.

Oh the chickeny annoyance! They ran left. They ran right. They ran back and forth. They got wet the whole time. Once I stopped spraying them Mr. Big took them behind the coop to preen.

When the watering was done I checked on my birds. They gave me the stink eye, but otherwise looked fine. But I felt a little sorry for them and decided to give them a treat.

I opened the gate and called "Chick! Chick! Chick!" and two came running. Mr. Big and Vo waited to see if I was going to spray them before joining the others.

Varmint weapon and hazing poles in hand, I tempted the flock to a nearby stretch of grass and weeds and dirt and bugs and random yummy things. Oh the chickeny joy!

They ranged and scratched and pecked and clucked. They fairly glowed with satisfaction as I watched over them. After thirty minutes Doctor Dolittle helped me haze them back into the coop.

Oh the chickeny afterglow! And they were content for the rest of the day.

Cabbage haters gonna hate cabbage

Cabbage is cheap nutrition. It helps chickens lay rich delicious eggs. Even Cato the Elder thought is was good stuff.

Other people have chickens that loooove cabbage. The cool people at BackyardChickens.com often recommend hanging a cabbage in the chicken coop to keep the birds entertained with a healthy snack.

But there is one little catch. The chickens actually have to eat it. As things stand now though, I am wondering if a chicken suppository is possible....

You see, my chickens like to free range. They dig and scratch. They eat bugs and weeds and delicious things that are too small for mere humans to see. Weed leaves that are too big to swallow whole get pecked into bite sized pieces. Now fast forward to today's cabbage experiment....

I gave them whole cabbage leaves. They kicked them out of the way to peck at the dirt.

I gave them little bite-sized cabbage leaf bits. They kicked them out of the way to peck at the dirt.

I left cabbage leaves in the feeder. They kicked them out of the way to peck at the crumbles.

They reeeeeeally hate that cabbage.


Update: Cabbage gone. Who did it?

Sad day

Well it finally happened. In the back of my mind, I knew it would eventually happen. I told myself I accepted the risk, that it probably would not happen for a long time, that it was just the circle of life.

Well it happened and it sucks.

My chickens wanted to free range and I let them. Now they don't want to leave the coop.

Yesterday I let them out to forage before the rains came. I had some lunch and went out to check on the birds. They were nowhere to be seen.

Then Doctor Dolittle started shouting. A large brown hawk (or owl) flew up into a tree and then casually moved away a few trees at a time until the crows came.

I found my favorite chicken, IQ, in the place where it took off. The predator had bitten off her head and eaten both her breasts. There were feathers everywhere.

We started searching the yard for survivors. Doc found three birds under the woodpile. One was disemboweled and dying. We found another under cover on the front porch. And we found Mr. Big hiding under the chicken coop.

Doc put the survivors in the coop while I buried the dead chickens.

It was not a good day.

IQ

Robin

Off to the Races!

My little flock of six chickens was initially confined to a bugless 1/3 acre chicken run. During that time I dutifully collected crickets and grasshoppers for them. They loved those little protein packed pests so much they would jump at my hand to snatch the treat. Oh the chickeny joy!

In the fall they decided to become free range chickens and hunt their own bugs. But now that winter is here, and hawks are overhead, I have been keeping them confined in an enclosed pen with only brief trips to the yard.

On their most recent trip the smart chicken, IQ, kicked up one of the few surviving grasshoppers. In a heartbeat she transformed from a semi-contented little bird to a ravenous coelurosaur.

The whole flock noticed and it was off to the races! IQ! De! Vo! Robin! Shadow! Buffy! Aaaaaand Mr. Big bringing up the rear. The bug turned and flew, sending the field into disarray. De and Shadow collided and dropped out of the race. Then it was IQ, Vo, and Robin. IQ in the lead. Robin caught up to Vo. The bug turned. Bad hop! Robin won by a beak!

Then their Kentucky Derby race turned into a Benny Hill chase as IQ and Vo ran after Robin. Vo managed to steal away half a bug and IQ stopped to eat a fallen leg. Oh the chickeny joy!

I tried to persuade them to join me for an impromptu award ceremony, but they would have none of it.

Upstaged by Doctor Dolittle

I have a gift for inserting my foot into my mouth.

I spent the morning bragging to Doctor Dolittle about my chicken-keeping prowess and grandiose plans. After a few gentle comments about "chicken math" I was too irritated to continue bragging.

Cranky, I went outside to put the chickens up from their late afternoon free range pasture crawl. They had worked over the whole yard and were waiting on the porch. That really chafes me because they leave poo where I do not want it.

The birds refused all suggestions, orders, commands, inducements, bribes and threats. They simply looked at me as if I were an interesting, but distasteful, insect. That really bugged me!

So I called the Doctor.

Doctor Dolittle listened patiently to the symptoms and then prescribed two slices of bread and advised I should call in the morning. Impervious to my eye roll, Doc serenely walked off the porch with the bread, calling the chickens.

They were spellbound! Every few feet Doc would drop a single small bread crumb and the five hens would simultaneously dive for the awesome delicious flying fleck of food. Oh the chickeny joy!

On Doc's command, Mr. Big performed his "crazy chicken head" and then marched into the coop like a conquering hero with his adoring harem close behind.

Meanwhile, I am consuming crow. *sigh*

Sprouts: how to provide fresh chicken food in winter

My chickens are bratty birds. Being confined, unable to free range the desolate yard, is making them crazy.

I gave them a hay bale, a flock block, a compost heap, a daily treat, and a 20x40 enclosure for their chickeny realm. But they are still mad about the seasonal transition from greenery to brownery. They fuss at me so much that Doctor Dolittle refuses to translate.

Recently I read about sprouting seeds. I jumped out of my bath, shouted "Eureka!" and ran to the kitchen like a soggy mad scientist.

In the kitchen I found an empty pickle jar and my bag of cheap birdseed. In the junk drawer I found the plastic mesh bag from an order of ladybugs.

Thus equipped, I began my experiment. I scooped into the jar a handful of cheap seeds: black oil sunflower seed, milo, millet, and wheat. Then I added water to the jar, let the seeds soak for a few hours, and put on some clothes.

Later, I clutched the fine mesh to the top of the jar and poured out the water. When the contents were "dry enough" I set the jar down and knocked the seeds off the mesh. Now the hard part -- waiting.

For two more days I soaked the seeds for a few minutes, drained the water, and put the jar up. Each day I could see more fine roots popping out of the seeds. Oh the chicken-owner anticipation!

Finally, I had a jar with a clump of roots at the bottom! One last rinse and out to the coop!!

I placed the plate of sprouts before the hens and stepped back.

They carefully approached the plate, as if they were concerned that Martians would pop out and disintegrate them. The smartest hen, IQ, took a tentative peck and immediately followed by another peck and another peck. Seeing her determined eating, the rest of the hens stepped in to taste the new treat.

They ate like little machines! Not the frenzied holiday-shopper insanity they have for familiar treats. More of a determined "This is weird. I'll have another. This is weird. I'll have another...."

They grimly consumed the entire plate of sprouts, leaving the rooster to circle the flock and steal seedlings from between their toes.

At last, they were getting fresh greenery. Oh the chickeny satisfaction!


Updates:

• After the first soak, the later wettings are just a few minutes. I drain off the water and just set the jar of seeds back on the counter. The experts say to tilt the jar to let the water drain through the mesh lid, but my mesh is not attached so I just let the seeds be a little more moist than an expert would. For the second round, I am rolling the jar around to stick the seeds to the side, like a cylinder of seed, and then leave the jar horizontal.
• The experts say the seedlings are at peak nutrition when the root is about as long as the seed. Because my seeds were mixed, some of my little seeds had longer roots by the third day.
• Seeds grow at different rates, some are ready to eat after two days. I read that some seeds take five days. My seeds were served after three days.
• The seeds are super cheap Economy Bird Seed -- they were not steam cleaned so the seeds are vital. It is important that the seed mix not include cracked corn because it will grow fungus instead of roots.

Mr. Big eating leftover sprouts

Happy Chickens

My dusty feathery friends have recently been my angry dusty feathery friends. They have been displeased with being penned up, displeased with the weather, and displeased with my treat delivery (or lack thereof).

Today, in an attempt to repurchase their affection, I let the chickens free range. Oh the chickeny joy!

Mr. Big strutted out the pen gate and marched the flock to the nearest clover patch. De, Vo, IQ, Buffy, and Robin followed as if in a dream, seeming to float 6 inches above the ground. Then they set to work kicking dirt all over me.

While Doctor Dolittle grilled our lunch, the flock made the rounds of the yard. They worked over the back fence and clucked happily. They dug through the weeds by the back door and clucked happily. They made their way to the front fence eating bugs and slugs and grass and roots and unknowable things that made them cluck happily.

We had lunch on the porch and IQ joined us at the table. Doc gave her half a pierogi. Oh the chickeny joy! She greedily consumed the treat and wiped potato bits off her beak.

In the afternoon, Doc tried putting out a bowl of oats with a dollop of lemon pudding. Mr. Big called the flock over to sample the new treat. He watched as each hen took a mouthful, shook her head, and ran off to get away from the yucky awful horrible terrible lemony stuff. Then Mr. Big took a mouthful, shook his head.... Well, he is handsome more than smart.

Having exhausted the meager resources of the wintry yard, they allowed themselves to be guided back into the pen. They clucked their approval of the days excursion and made their way to the coop for a well-earned rest.

Ah, happy chickens!

Chickens Going Stir-Crazy

Recently there have been too many hawks in the unfriendly skies above. My formerly free range flock has been confined to their fully enclosed 800 sq. ft. pen, much to their annoyance.

The pen has been turned into a giant litter box as well as a giant dust bath. The recent rain made the whole thing into a mucky yucky place.

I put an entire bale of hay in there for them. They dutifully dismantled the bale and distributed the hay, but that barely kept them occupied for an afternoon. They are now so bored that they are no longer interested in the formerly delicious Black Oil Sunflower Seed.

When I go outside they pace back and forth along whichever fence is closest to me. They grumble and cuss in their chickeny way and generally give me the stink eye -- even my secret favorite, the smart one.

I need some ideas to keep them entertained while I keep them safe. I tried 99 bottles of beer on the wall, but they do not seem to like my beautiful "singing" voice.

My Clever Little "Helper"

As I get ready to go on my Odyssey I am making some last-minute improvements to my chickeny world.

The fenced pen around the coop is 40x20. It has no top so the birds, of their own accord, have become free-range chickens. So I bought one of these doodads:

Putting my engineering background to good use, I zip tied flimsy PVC pipe to the coop roof and the fence top for structural integrity. Then I balanced on one leg atop a ladder sturdily planted in randomly placed dust baths and fluffed the bird net over the coop and supports.

My smartest chicken helped with the project. She walked under the net laying on the ground and tried to walk out through the net. Have to commend her for her determination to fit her head, tail, left wing, right wing, left leg, and right leg into a net hole. Her judgement, not so much.

So when I called the chickens in for the night with their evening BOSS bribe, she stubbornly remained out in the yard. I found her patiently sitting on the ground, waiting for me to do my superior-3D geometry thing that us primates seem to be good at. After much wiggling and jiggling and pushing and colorful vocalizations (from both of us), she was free. She casually walked waaaaaay around the net to get to the gate and then into the coop.

Maybe IQ was a good name after all.

Supporting net with PVC

Vacation: Out of Control

How do you take a vacation when you have a flock of chickens? OK, this applies to dogs, cats, horses, and other critters. But the question remains the same....

My flock of seven, six laying hens and the big guy, has been my little friends since I got them in May. In that time, we have learned together about what foods are chickeny-delicious, how to recover from a chickeny virus, how to deal with weak eggshells, proper coop construction, puberty, and choking hazards.

Through all these adventures I have become quite close to my little feathery friends and they have learned to (mostly) tolerate my presence.

But now I need to travel from Texas to the frosty wasteland known as "Up North". I have at least 40 hours of driving ahead of me before I am home again.

I have enlisted my most trusted friend to take care of my fluffy babies. Now I have the delicate task of respectfully communicating every single detail of caring for my cherished cockerel and prized pullets.

While I am away I will worry about the flock. Will there be predator problems as they free range? Will they gain a lot of weight from gourmet cooking?

I don't know what to expect. I am afraid of the unknown. Guess I need some perspective.

Pandora's Free Range Box

My flock has decided that they are free range chickens. This is not at all what I had planned!

My coop and run were designed to keep the chickens safe and happy. Unfortunately, my (relatively) smart chicken has had a taste of freedom.

Every day now she slips out the gate or flies over the fence. Then she roams the yard eating yummy bugs, seeds, lizards, and unidentifiable delicious things. Within a few minutes the rooster, a strong flier, joins her and together they promenade about near the house.

This enrages the rest of the flock! The little red hen is not such a good flier. She usually makes it up to an altitude of few inches below the chicken wire, which she smacks at full chicken velocity. The others race back and forth along the fence line and squawk as if I were eating ice cream in front of them.

To preserve my sanity, I let them out until early afternoon. Oh the chickeny joy! They strut and cluck and scratch and poo and run and have a great time.

Once they stretch their legs (and/or wings) a little, they chill out enough to come back to the run for a drink. About an hour before sunset I can tempt them into the coop and lock them up safely.

I was warned. But noooooo, I had to open Pandora's Box. *sigh*

Now I have free range chickens.

De, Vo, and Buffy

Free Range Surprise

My flock normally spends their nights in a coop and their days in the fenced 1/3 acre wood lot I call the run. They have turned over every inch of the run and it is now composed of trees, brush, pine needles, dirt, and poo. I am planning to sow forage and extend the run next year.

Temporarily obedient hens foraging in the run

Today the smart hen and the rooster made a run for it. I discovered this while putting up holiday decorations on the porch.

The two wanderers were foraging in the yard acreage while the rest of the flock stressed out running back and forth along the fence. Knowing a lost cause when I see one I made the best of the inevitable. I locked the front gate and opened the gate to the chicken run. It took all of 28 seconds to haze the hens out to join the feasting pair.

They ranged over the acre nearest the house, including my secret grasshopper hunting ground. Oh the chickeny joy! The alpha hen jumped to eat the seed tops from the tallest unkempt grass. The others ranged across the driveway and around the back, eating bugs, seeds, and weeds while the rooster kept watch.

When the flock was ready to go back to the coop they cleverly piled up at the fence closest to the coop instead of walking around through the open gate. Guess they can't all be brilliant. I had to tempt them into the coop with a bowl of Black Oil Sunflower Seed.