New girls

We lost our earlier hens to a virus, unfortunately, but bound and determined to own chickens, we waited patiently for the spring (well, late winter), and ordered some new ones from a hatchery. They arrived - all 27 of them - back on February 20, just two days after they were hatched. 5 of the tiny girls didn't make it through that weekend, but the rest ate and pooped and grew and grew... Eventually we sold or gave away all but 7.

Here they are, at about week 7, already enjoying the outside during the day.




Unfortunately, we still keep them in the garage at night, and the place is absolutely covered in "chicken dust." My poor car will take a few weeks to clean out. Still, they seem to like the place. Here are a pair of Barred Rocks (Tallulah and Tecumseh) and the Silver Laced Wyandotte (Little Silver, until a better name strikes us), posing:




This is the "Queen Bee," a.k.a. Coconut:




They seem to like to cluster on the step in the garage for a nap:



Just this evening, they decided the edge of the pen wasn't high enough for them. I went in the garage to wish them a good night (they get a little pet or a scratch each before I turn out the light), and I was astonished to find them up on the ladder:



This weekend, it will be time to move to their new home in the henhouse (new to them, anyway). It'll be entertaining trying to teach them to go in at night, but they'll get it after a day or two.

Goodbye roos, hello hens

After a month or so of three "hens" waking us up rather loudly at 6:30am, we were drawn somewhat reluctantly to the conclusion that some of our hens, well, weren't. We should have taken the hint early on. When Buffy started to crow a bit, we dismissed it as, "she's a tom-boy," and my wife even came up with some evidence that sometimes, in a flock of hens, one might end up being the alpha hen, and crow a bit. I've got to tell you, we did a pretty darned effective job of convincing ourselves, even after all three started to crow at all hours of the day (and at the aforementioned 6:30am), but eventually we figured the neighbors were on to us and would have the Chicken Police calling on us at any moment. Fact of the matter is, roosters are not legal in our town, and given the racket, it's no wonder. So we finally resolved to take action and asked all of our friends and associated if they had any idea what to do. "Ha, ha," we thought, "surely everyone will want a beautiful rooster that we swore was a hen!" No such luck.

Finally, we found a woman up in Cotati, about two hours north, who labels herself as the "Chicken Queen," and gave her a call. She was certainly friendly, and gave us some good advice - try Craig's List, and if that failed, she would "re-home" our roosters. (Apparently she raises chickens mostly for backyard flocks, and can find good homes for wayward roosters.)

So we put up an ad in Craig's List, complete with pictures of Buffy the Vampire Chicken (perhaps "Buffo" was a better name) and Moxie Crimefighter Chickenbutt/Rock-n-Roll/Red. I still held on to the hope (now completely, outrageously false) that we might keep our off-white Ameraucana (Snowball/Frenchie), who had turned into a really gorgeous bird with tremendous personality. (Not a chance - he was crowing, too.) Anyway, Craig's List has a one-week free listing, and we figured we'd make use of the Chicken Queen if all else failed.

Our first bite on Craig's List came a couple of days later, and it turned out to be a dud - probably a scam artist hoping that what we were selling was something we'd pay a bunch of money to ship. Our second bite, however, was a great one - a couple, living about 45 minutes south, who really wanted Buffy (Buffo?) for their flock of girls. I made arrangements to take him down on the weekend, and away we went. When I arrived, they turned out to be a wonderful couple with about 8 hens running around a large pasture with a couple of goats and a whole lot of room to scratch and run. We put Buff in a temporary cage, and two of the hens immediately came up and started making some noise: "Ooo, check him out... he's kinda cute!" Apparently they let him out a bit after I left, and then he went in for the night with his new harem. Check out Buff, strutting his stuff in front of the girls:



Here he is in his new roost at night, with the girls:



And here he is with another of the lovely ladies:



We didn't get any more serious bites on Craig's List before our time was up, so we planned to take the other two roosters up to Cotati. The day before we left with them, I spent the day at home, working on my computer outside. They made it pretty clear that they liked to hang around me by helping with my work:



Fact is, roosters are full of personality - sometimes a bit too much, as Rock-n-Roll was starting to nip at our heels and toes towards the end of his stay. But they were curious, beautiful birds, and I was sad to see them go. Here are some head shots:











In the end, we decided to keep our remaining snow-white Ameraucana, Dijon (Dijon Chicken, a.k.a. "Poupon You," a.k.a. "Snowflake"):



...and we got her two new friends, Cinnamon Girl, a.k.a. "Rockin' Cinnamon Roll":



and the new incarnation of Moxie Crimefighter Chickenbutt:



They are practically inseparable:



Dijon wasn't sure what to make of them at first, but has taken to mothering over them, so all is right in the Chicken World.

And a word to the wise: "deer resistant" plants are largely chicken-resistant as well. Good to know.

Summer of Chickenbutts II

Ah, the heady days of summer, when you swear you're going to update that blog and finish the tale of the chickens and the kids... wait, what? So much for timely updates.

When we returned from Tahoe, it was time to celebrate the 4th of July, which meant celebrating our next door neighbor's birthday. Call the chef!

It's important to know who owns the kitchen. Don't mess with the chef when he's in the kitchen.


Time for cake. First, consult with the master chef about how best to proceed:


Then the assistants can get on with the decorating.


Viola!


A little soccer to build up the appetite. Here's the assist...



GOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL:


The birthday boy and his clan (guess which one is the birthday boy):


Paige and friends...


The Kuby Clan and Birthday Joe:


Birthday Joe in a touching moment...


Of course, we could not send off the gang without making pastries. Boy, did I ever get an ear-full about not making pastries until the last week. WELL IF YOU HADN'T BEEN MAKING PANCAKES EVERY DAY... I mean, really.

Then, when I finally made them, what chances were there that anyone other than Seth would get any? You decide for yourself...


Seth wanted to play outside. I said, "Sure. What shall we play?" He said something about "good guys and bad guys - we'll be the good guys."

I asked, "What are our names?"

Seth: "I don't know."

Me: "How about Chunkboy and Robin"

Seth: "Okay... You be Chunkboy."

Here they are, the intrepid Chunkboy and Robin... I think we're on a boat, looking out for sharks. Or alligators. Probably both.


Before the kids left, we had to take them kayaking. ALL of the local reservoirs were closed to boat traffic (except for one that wanted to charge us to INSPECT OUR KAYAK... what were we expected to be doing, smuggling buffalo?), so we were forced to improvise. Thus, the CAR KAYAK:


It got pretty unstable at about 60 mph, but they held on pretty well, considering.

Sheesh, I'm kidding, OK?

Summer of Chickenbutts

Our niece and nephew (with my mother-in-law in tow) came to visit, as they do every summer (for the last 10 years, since our niece was born). This was one of their shorter visits, lasting only 5 weeks. Needless to say, chickenbutts figured prominently in their visit - and, to absolutely no one's surprise, the chickens were claimed and/or renamed immediately upon their arrival.

One chicken retained her name, but potentially not her sex. We are no longer certain that Buffy the Vampire Chicken is, in fact, a she. S/he now crows every morning, without fail, between 6 and 6:30, and sounds precisely the way you would expect a barnyard rooster (eh hem) would sound. At the same time, Buffy continues to be the quintessential chicken, being the first to run and hide at the sign of change of any kind.

Our RIR (as those in the chickenbutt world refer to Rhode Island Reds) was rechristened Rock and Roll Chicken and claimed by our four-year-old nephew (to be fair, he named her "Wock and Woll Chicken"). Wock and Woll (sorry) and Buffy continue to be the best of friends, and seldom leave each other's sides. They even sleep together on the same beam in their house.

The two Americaunas were renamed by our ten year old niece "Snowball" and "Snowflake" - "Snowball" being the off-white one (I suppose somewhat reminiscent of a snowball in Chicago, where our niece hails from, guaranteed to never be pure white after the first day of snow). She claimed both snow-related chickens as "hers," and pronounced their eternal friendship. Fact is, the two Americaunas hang out and sleep together as well. Truth be told, the chickens never like to be far from each other, but they definitely have their favorites.

The summer started out in a typical fashion... everyone headed straight for the kitchen.



Chicken feeding was also a popular activity, started early:


Half way into the trip, we took the gang up to Lake Tahoe. Clearly addled by the smoke and haze, we decided to bury the kids:

Such a senseless waste of human life.

Other activities at Tahoe include tennis:


...ping-pong:


..and golfing with the bears:


While in Tahoe, however, one must take great care to avoid the spiders:


If you are captured by spiders, apparently sushi helps you to recover quickly:


Note that our nephew couldn't be bothered with chopsticks, opting instead for the much more direct route. This sushi was enjoyed at Squaw Valley, home of the Winter Olympics, and apparently some very large skiers. We convinced the kids to try out one of their seats:


While in Tahoe, the kids wanted to go hiking, so we explored this trail:


Along the way, we saw these really cool red plants, some of which had little rings of wood around them. We found one and decided to "protect it" ourselves:


Also on the same hike, our niece found a scenic spot and decided a pile of sticks woudl make a nice seat for a weary traveler:


Nearby, our nephew practiced what he learned from Bear Grylls (Man v. Wild) about how important it was to construct a fire to keep your spirits up on those long cold mountain nights:


Thankfully, this was a pretend fire. (Well, to be honest, he was pretty much begging me to light it, but we finally convinced him that a pretend fire was best.)

Also on the trail, we learned a valuable lesson about How Not To Cut Down a Tree:


There are some lovely trails and good bike rentals in Tahoe, so we figured, "What the heck?" Here's the blissful ignorance of youth before we left base camp:


A bit along the trail, we stopped to admire the view. I'm fairly sure the kids were wondering about how to ditch us at this point.


We made it all the way to Squaw Valley -- a distance of 5 miles (one way) -- on just cookies and sheer will:


While at Squaw, we surveyed a house for Noni:


Nahhhh...

Of course, all play and no work can ALSO make Jack a dull boy, we wanted to be sure you knew that some of us brought work with us while on vacation at Tahoe:


More in next post...