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.
Showing posts with label smart chicken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label smart chicken. Show all posts
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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:
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.
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| Mr. Big eating leftover sprouts |
Saturday, January 15, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Angry Chickens
My chickens were mad at me today. The rooster even fussed at me with his Martian voice -- "you are making me very angry".
What terrible thing did I do? I forgot to bring their morning oatmeal bowl. Oh chickeny distress! They were so flustered that for a minute I was worried they were going to explode like little feather bombs.
The followed me around the pen like they were expecting food to magically appear in my empty hands. The only one who was not upset about the missing treat was Robin.
Robin was on the nest when I went in the coop. I reached in for the eggs and she gave me the foulest look! She was absolutely furious. She gave me a peck and then huffed out of the nest box and stood there bawk-bawk-BAWKing at me. Then after one last application of the stink eye, she flounced out of the coop.
I came back later in the day and brought a hammer for self defense, but they graciously refrained from tearing me to bits. As I nailed more weather protection into place, my notorious helper came over to supervise. That touched off a flurry of rubberneckers, gawkers, and helpers -- all climbing on to the roll of wire I had laid down next to me. One moment a worksite, next a carnival.
When I went into the coop for evening egg collection, they all lined up inside the coop and stared at me expectantly. It was too early, but they were so sure I would make amends that they came inside anyway.
I took pity on them and tossed a bowl of Black Oil Sunflower Seed into the coop. Oh the chickeny joy! They were so happy they did not notice when I closed the pop door. They noticed as I tried to slip away though. So it was back to the stink eye for me.
Doctor Dolittle saved the day, sending a care package of oatmeal and scratch. I slipped the treats in through the pop door and stood back to watch. Oh the chickeny joy! They were so relieved to get their oatmeal that they forgave my terrible, terrible lapse in judgement.
Whew! Close call.
What terrible thing did I do? I forgot to bring their morning oatmeal bowl. Oh chickeny distress! They were so flustered that for a minute I was worried they were going to explode like little feather bombs.
The followed me around the pen like they were expecting food to magically appear in my empty hands. The only one who was not upset about the missing treat was Robin.
Robin was on the nest when I went in the coop. I reached in for the eggs and she gave me the foulest look! She was absolutely furious. She gave me a peck and then huffed out of the nest box and stood there bawk-bawk-BAWKing at me. Then after one last application of the stink eye, she flounced out of the coop.
I came back later in the day and brought a hammer for self defense, but they graciously refrained from tearing me to bits. As I nailed more weather protection into place, my notorious helper came over to supervise. That touched off a flurry of rubberneckers, gawkers, and helpers -- all climbing on to the roll of wire I had laid down next to me. One moment a worksite, next a carnival.
When I went into the coop for evening egg collection, they all lined up inside the coop and stared at me expectantly. It was too early, but they were so sure I would make amends that they came inside anyway.
I took pity on them and tossed a bowl of Black Oil Sunflower Seed into the coop. Oh the chickeny joy! They were so happy they did not notice when I closed the pop door. They noticed as I tried to slip away though. So it was back to the stink eye for me.
Doctor Dolittle saved the day, sending a care package of oatmeal and scratch. I slipped the treats in through the pop door and stood back to watch. Oh the chickeny joy! They were so relieved to get their oatmeal that they forgave my terrible, terrible lapse in judgement.
Whew! Close call.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
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.
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.
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| Supporting net with PVC |
Saturday, December 4, 2010
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.
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.
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| De, Vo, and Buffy |
Thursday, December 2, 2010
My Smartest Chicken
My flock is pretty clever when it comes to getting what they want.
They have figured out how to get out of the pen:
They hit a new low for sneakiness today. The squash donut left over from the previous day had been moved into the raccoon trap. You know what comes next....
I saw the smartest of my hens, named IQ, who wanted a second helping walk right in to get it. Took her 10 minutes to place her foot on the trigger plate, but it was worth the wait.
I could not resist walking over there to gloat a little. The perplexed expression on her face was priceless.
OK, that was petty.
They have figured out how to get out of the pen:
- by flying up to the fence rail and hopping down the other side
- by sneaking out the gate when it has a tiny gap
- by wiggling under the run's chicken wire
They hit a new low for sneakiness today. The squash donut left over from the previous day had been moved into the raccoon trap. You know what comes next....
I saw the smartest of my hens, named IQ, who wanted a second helping walk right in to get it. Took her 10 minutes to place her foot on the trigger plate, but it was worth the wait.
I could not resist walking over there to gloat a little. The perplexed expression on her face was priceless.
OK, that was petty.
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| IQ, Super Genius |
Sunday, November 28, 2010
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.
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.
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| Temporarily obedient hens foraging in the run |
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.
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