Ta da!

You would think that I laid the eggs but lo and behold it was my Bella who  came through!  I was beyond excited.  It has been so satisfying to raise these chickens from tiny hatchlings to full grown laying hens.  And this is how it went...it had been quite a day!  The week prior my chickens had been bravely venturing further and further into the upper yard. I had been putting off clipping their wings because...well they're birds and I have this thought that I would be taking away the things that make them who they are.  I finally decided that their safety was more important (the upper yard is not completely fenced!). I easily picked up Bella and clipped back one side of her wing feathers, a little harder to get Raquel but eventually I succeeded.  Stanley (formerly Stella) was impossible.  He actually turned around and stood his ground while I was after him, ruffling his cape feathers out and even jumping in the air to try to kick at me.  As I look back, he must have been trying to protect Bella's space while she was looking for a place to lay her eggs.  Bella kept trying to hide in the bushes which was strange behavior for her as well.  I followed her and found that she had dug a nest in the pine needles under the mugo pine above their coop.  Right there were 4 beautiful blue eggs that she was going to sit on and as I kept watching her she started gathering leaves and more pine needles in around her.  I reached down below her and collected the treasure, ran in the house to share my discovery with the rest of the family (who have, by the way, been ready to give away or cook the birds for their lack of productivity).
It has been 5 months to the day since I picked them up from the farm store so they are right on schedule.  I couldn't believe that there were four perfectly shaped, beautifully colored hard-shelled eggs.  I wanted to preserve them.  I didn't know if I could actually eat them but that thought lasted only until breakfast.  THEN, I went back out to check on Bella and she was clucking excitedly and looking everywhere for her eggs.  I was sick in my stomach and near tears.  I wanted to put them back.  I wanted to watch them hatch but how could I hide any more little peeps from the city let alone my mother.  I would quit my job, go into chicken farming full time, sell eggs, sell chicks; the feathers could be used for fly tying, craft projects...ahhh the opportunities were endless.  As I stood there with all of this running through my head, Bella headed back under the bushes.  Again I followed her and again she layed another egg.  After this one she took off ready to gorge herself on green grass and bugs after all her hard work.  Not another thought was given to the lain eggs.  Hallelujah!  I gathered up the last one and headed for the house feeling proud of my chicken and myself.

My Stella is a Stanley

Well this explains alot...the aggressive personality, the hen pecking, and the avoidance of any human affection!  It has been quite some time since last I blogged but life has been busy and exciting over the summer.  There has been wine walks at the store to prepare for, farmer's markets to attend and a garden that requires tending. The days have started earlier and earlier and ended later and later.  I have gotten into a routine with my chickens.  I get up and go outside to let them out of the coop for some early morning exercise, grass nibbling and bug or worm scratching.  Stella is the first to haul tail feathers out of the coop followed by the other two chickens.  Then the romp begins with Stella flying at the other two hens raising her feathers and either pecking at them or trying to jump on them with her feet.  They seem to hold their own though by either ignoring her or fluffing their neck feathers and standing their ground.  I'm becoming very fond of their coos and clucks.  Raquel sounds like a muffled trumpet and I have picked up her do-di-do-di-doo which I annoyingly sing at work when I'm happy.  But Stella has been trying to make sounds deep in her throat which I just attributed to her crazy (could someone have dropped her on her head?) personality!  Well lo and behold the next morning I hear a throaty hoarse "rock-a-doodle-doo" which progressively gets louder and louder.  I am in shock and this is not because I'm hearing this all before my alarm clock goes off...about an hour before my alarm goes off!  I have hens. I grab my robe and run outside.  No sound-nothing.  I let the chickens out, they follow their usual routine and I go back in the house thinking it was all a dream.  Then "rock-a-doodle-doo" and I run out again staring at my Stella who was all along a "Stanley".  We are not allowed a rooster in the city limits so I'm hoping she (he-this will take some time getting used to!)will limit his crowing and maybe our neighbors will grow fond of the sound as I have.  

The Pecking Order

Now that the chickens are happily established in their new home and feeling safe, they are beginning to show the traits of their personalities even more.  Stella, the bad girl of the bunch, runs at Bella, the quiet unassuming sweetheart of the three. Stella puffs up her feathers, lengthens her already long neck, and stares Bella down with her beady little eyes.  Stella has begun jumping at or over Bella pouncing on her with those big leathery feet. I chase that bad girl away and give her hell, wagging my finger at her as she runs away from my scolding. Bella usually just walks away but lately she has been standing up for herself, likewise puffing out her feathers and squawking back at Stella which seems to back her down.  Stella doesn't try this with Raquel, perhaps because she is the biggest of my mini flock.  This all surprises me because anytime some sound or movement alarms the chickens, Stella is the one who runs and hides behind the other two.  When they go up to their roost at night, Stella crawls in and over the other two completely hiding herself as the other two keep watch for the night.  Chicken!

Moving Day

Bella & Stella

Raquel

It was the topsy-turvy event the chickens had with my Dad and the fact I was cleaning their box out nearly twice a day that determined it was time to move the foul fowl out to larger quarters.  The lovely red-painted triangular coop had been set up on sandy ground in the backyard, edged in bricks (so no predators could dig underneath) and covered with a fresh bed of pine shavings and straw.  A stone path led to the door, a small solar-powered light had been staked into the ground nearby (a chicken night lite?) and an overturned metal milk crate left out so I could sit nearby to keep them company; the only things missing...Stella, Bella and Raquel!  I carefully carried their box out from the house placing it by the door to their new home.  One by one I lifted my chickies out of their tiny confines into their roomy new digs and quickly shut the door.  Peeping and squawking they spread their wings, ran then flew from one end of the coop to the other checking out their open space.  The girls (mostly led by Stella) chased each other in circles around the ramp that led to the roosting space but did not venture up to the new height.  I set them up with their water and food then sat down to watch them play.  After an hour or two...maybe three of being mesmerized by their hysterical antics I decided I had to get something else done!  It was hard to leave them outside by themselves.  These were my babies and this felt a little like taking my now adult children to their first day of Kindergarten. They were growing up. I hated to admit it but I think moving day was harder on me than the chickens.

My Peeps' New Crib

My little chickies are...no longer little.  They are growing feathers and trying to use them.  If, like dogs, they grow into their "paws" then I am in trouble!   I came home another night after work to find blocks of wood in their container, a veritable obstacle course!  "What are these?", I asked.  "They were fighting over the water bottle (not for water) for Queen of the Roost.", my mother explained.  So she gave them each a roost and they were very happy...for a couple of days.  The higher they got to the rim of the container the more they could see a world that they had not yet explored or pooped on!  The incident with my father (see my last blog) reminded me that I had to get busy on their coop.  So, piece by piece I took the prefab coop I had ordered to the lower yard where it would be in a protected area both from wind and sun.  Existing gravel had been spread out, bricks laid down for an outside foundation, a stone path created leading to the chickies' new address so now to put their home together.  The landscape architect who designed this coop told me that it was as easy as something from Ikea.  OK...I've never put together anything from Ikea but I've been in the store and their designs looked simple enough.  How hard could it be?  I had good directions, all parts were accounted for, I grabbed my screwdriver and with enthusiasm got started. Two hours, two blisters and two connected walls later, my mom offered that they did own a battery-operated screwdriver if I wanted to use it !!!  Seriously?  Seriously?  To be continued....

Earthquake...Tsunami....Tornado ?

Today when I walked into the house after work, I did not see my father in his usual spot, a comfy leather chair which he occupies for a good part of the day while recovering from his stroke. As I ventured into the kitchen there was my father on the floor watching TV!  It took me about 15 seconds to assess the situation.  My mother has a contemporary Danish kitchen table with three-legged chairs that are very tipsy.  Obviously my father had dozed off  and fallen off his chair.  I guessed that he couldn't get up so was waiting for someone to discover him.  However, on his way down he must have grabbed for anything to stabilize him...which happened to be the chicken container.  Everything that was in their home had shifted to one end creating a kind of cascade of food dish, water trough, and pine shavings. Their screening had been dislodged and here were Bella, Stella and Raquel at the top of the disheveled heap staring down at my father covered in pine shavings and ...well you know what is in pine shavings!  The momentary scene that ran through my mind at this point were three chickens running all over the house and me trying to catch them before my mom brought out her cleaver ready to serve them up for that night's dinner and my poor dad watching all this while still sitting on the floor.  I was somewhere between panic and bursting out laughing.  The sight was something to behold.  Before my vision became reality I grabbed the screening, threw it over their container while feathers flew and told my Dad to stay put. (Where was he going?!) I had no idea where my mom was...it was dark in the basement so not on her computer, outside then.  I rushed to the backyard and yelled for her.  It took both of us to pick him up, brush off the pine shavings and settle him into his chair.  My dad was fine, just a little shaken.  The poor chickens on the other hand did not know what hit them.  I eventually got their home back in order, fed them and watered them but did not hear a peep out of them.  I looked over the edge of their container and there were Bella, Stella and Raquel hunkered down into their pine shavings with their heads tucked under their wings sound asleep.  It was time to finish the coop!

Emergency

By night--a chicken farmer, by day--a retail manager.  I spend 40 some hours a week at a lovely and busy little kitchen shop here in downtown Elko.  Just a couple of days ago a call came up on our phone at work whose number I recognized.  It was my parents.  Sheer panic went up from my feet to the top of my head (could have been a hot flash).  My father went through a stroke and a seizure about six months ago and has been walking on shaky ground ever since.  A call at work could only be serious. "You won't believe what's happened!,"  my mom said.  My heart was racing..."What?"    "I came out to the kitchen this morning and guess who was sitting on top of their water bottle ready to fly the coop?!".  "What do I do?, " Mom pleaded.  A gazillion emotions ran through me in a matter of two seconds...relief, anger, astonishment, amusement and perplexity.  She was calling me at work to seek help with a simple problem, a solvable problem!  "If these chickens get out in my house I'm going to wring their necks!, " she said.  I couldn't wouldn't leave work to rescue my dear mother from the chickens!!  "Just put the lid on it, " I offered.  We had upgraded them from a box to a Rubbermaid container to give them a larger space as they grew. "Oh no, they have to see out.  I'm going to order them a screen."  These *#%@ chickens were costing more by the minute! I'm think they better lay a couple of golden eggs. Sure enough when I got home there was a nice piece of screening covering the container and Raquel pecking at it from atop the water bottle--no golden eggs : /  

It was time to get the outdoor coop put together.  Now if the weather would cooperate... AND I could disconnect the phone.

Get-along, Little Chickies, Get-along

Introducing Raquel (the Barred Rock) into Bella's & Stella's (the Ameraucana's) cardboard home did not go well at first.  Raquel must have been exhausted from having lived her first week with about 50 other chicks running to and fro and peeping incessantly because all she wanted to do was sleep.  It worried me at first; she did not look like she was going to make it.  Bella & Stella had already become fast friends so when Raquel was added to the family, they had to check her out and my guess is....re-establish the pecking order.  Every time she tried to sleep, they jumped on her or pecked at her...mostly Stella jumped on her and pecked at her!  I kept scolding Stella and shooing her away.  Finally Raquel got her beauty rest or maybe I should say "Super Chicken" sleep and things in the ole coop haven't been the same since.  Larger than the other two chicks and now able to defend herself, Raquel is the Queen of the Roost!  All is peaceful for the time being and when there is a perceived threat of danger, Bella and Stella hide behind Raquel who very happily swells her feathers with pride to offer them protection.

If Two's Company then Three's........a Family?

My two little chickies started out in a cardboard box filled with fresh smelling pine shavings and a 125w heatlamp bulb.  I was told they were a little over a week old and I watched them with fascination just like I did my two children as they started out.  They already asserted their pecking order and had separate personalities as well.  It took me a mere five minutes before I decided to name them ... Bella and Stella.  Bella is the smaller of the two Americaunas, shyer and quite beautiful in her markings. Her eyes are ringed as if with kohl. Stella is a little darker, more curious and more assertive.  She has what appears to be a widows peak on her head. Stella seems to never sleep keeping watch over their new home and Bella.  According to our city ordinance we are only to have two birds...why two?  Well I'll have to check that out later.  Chickens love company and I really wanted to raise several different breeds but I figured I shouldn't push the limit too far.  But what if one didn't make it...I would revisit the feed store and just check them out one more time.  I asked the same young man who helped me before if the breeds all got along or if it was better to stick with one.  He kind of laughed, "No ma'am they don't know the difference."  Chickens aren't prejudice.  However they do bond somewhat like a family and do not like someone coming into the brood at a later date so it was today or never if I were going to introduce another chicken.   I looked at all the different breeds and asked the young man which were the youngest since I wanted one about the same age as Bella and Stella.  Barred Rocks (barred describing the lines of black & white in their feathers) were suggested and so I picked out a smaller one who was black with a white marking on her head and off I went with my little box.  Barred Rocks are not...well, as cute or pretty as the Ameraucanas. Therefore I named her Raquel and thought she could grow into her name. 

The Peeps

The coop arrived in a large box...a heavy large box. I missed the FedEx man who delivered it but he must workout on a regular basis or is now hospitalized with a hernia.  The box was sitting on our front porch. So excited I was that I grabbed one end, tried to pull it down onto the front lawn and managed to rip out the steel industrial-strength staples holding one end and take off three nicely manicured fingernails before realizing this baby wasn't going anywhere without some help. Mom!  For being 77 years old and rather tiny, her German/Irish will alone gives her the strength of two FedEx delivery men and their truck put together!  I'd tackle it after work with her help.  Meanwhile I needed to find some residents for our very own soon-to-be chic poultry palace.  After a little research," little" being the key word here I decided I wanted a breed that would lay blue or brown eggs, could weather the cold and would be friendly.  The color of the eggs doesn't matter as to the nutritional value or taste of the egg, I just thought it would be exciting to gather colored eggs.  The farm store personnel told me that all the breeds they brought in were weather hardy for this area.  The friendly factor was important since visiting my uncle's ranch as a little girl I was pecked and chased by a banty rooster which at the time, looked to be just my height. "How big do these chickens get?" I asked. 

I decided upon two Ameraucana.  They laid the blue eggs and the convincing factor...they were SO cute!  They had brown and yellow fluff all over their tiny bodies in a pattern that resembled chipmunks right down to their beady little eyes.  The young man scooped up the two that I picked and put them in a small box with a carrying handle which they did not like and protested loudly about all the way home.  This was not all I needed though....the young man also loaded in my truck a bale of pine shavings, a heat lamp (they had to be at 90 degrees for a week then slowly lower temps until feathers appeared), a watering trough designed for poultry (you cannot use a bowl, they can drown), a small feed plate and Chick Starter.  These were getting to be expensive eggs!  Ah but the learning experience.....  

Form and Function

Last year, my Mother and I spotted a unique chicken coop in the January issue of Sunset Magazine.  It was a triangular shape in bright yellow with happy chickens looking out from a forested backyard neatly sitting on a bed of cedar chips.  We drooled over that coop for more than a year.  Just owning the coop and installing it in the backyard would have been enough.  It was designed by  a landscape architect from California; unique, modern and definitely a conversation piece. Even though it looked like a piece of contemporary farm art it did have a purpose.  We started to get the itch.  We could save money by raising our own egg laying chickens.  Chickens that had room to roam and scratch. Chickens that weren't injected with hormones.  Chickens that would be treated humanely. Visiting the farm store, hearing their chirps and peeps and seeing their soft, fluffy little bodies dashing from one side to the other of their enclosure convinced me that I had to have one, two or three.  And that was the number that the coop would comfortably hold, the number that the city would allow a home owner to raise within the city limits.  I contacted the designers of the coop and we made our purchase.  It was to be delivered by FedEx within the next week.  Now to pick out our chickens. 

Resource for coop:  www.chickencribs.com   

Home to Roost

I'm starting a new venture.  If you've read my profile you know that I like to learn new things.  I know nothing about raising chickens nor have I had a blog. First a little background....

Two and a half years ago my husband lost his job.  About six months after that I found a lump in my breast.  A year of surgeries, chemo, radiation then losing my job and I was ready for a change. During that long time of contemplation about life I'd begun to notice quite a bit about the DIY movement that was cropping up into every aspect of American life.  Whether due to our pioneering spirit and/or the sorry state of our economy, people living in urban environments were turning their landscaping into self-sustaining gardens and taking on small manageable livestock for food.   A job opened up out west where I grew up in Nevada and I decided to take it.  Not an easy decision since half my family is still back in Illinois.  But here I am with an income better than unemployment, temporarily living in my parent's basement and looking for ways to stretch our rapidily declining American dollar.