Bloody Eggs and Herding the Flock

Well, the spring has finally brought the gorgeous weather in earnest.

Mama hen has gone broody again. This time the weather is appropriate rather than the middle of February when she was last determined to sit. However, herself and I are still not inclined this year for baby chicks, so the eggs are removed. Trouble is, that with the upheavals in the last couple of weeks, I've not collected eggs everyday! In spite of popular misconception, eggs do not go bad in a few days. In fact, only in the United States (to my knowledge) are eggs sold out of refrigerated sections. So, eggs a few days in the coop are perfectly safe in terms of spoilage. But some of these eggs have been sat on for a few days! This results in the rare, but unpleasant surprise, of a bit of blood in an egg. Also perfectly safe to eat, but unappealing to most senses. I am not squeamish in such a way, but I WILL redouble my efforts to collect these eggs in a timely fashion!

Also, with the warm weather, has brought a new found sense of antagonism to our 'hero' Coq Au. It has been over six months since he and I had a proper dust up, but he is spoiling for a fight. After I distribute breakfast, leave the run and close the door, he 'bravely' flings himself upon the fencing in my general direction as a show of aggression. And, as per usual, I reopen the door and quietly challenge him to 'go for it'.

"Whaddaya wanna do?" I'll defiantly intone.

"Nuthin' I ain't doing nuthin'" he replies with a defiant sneer.

I know one day soon he will muster up the courage once again to shout "HAVE AT YOU!" with barbaric glee as he thrusts his body in my direction, awash with talons and snapping beak. At over four years old, I'll be both proud and horrified at the same time. You go on, old man, give it your best shot!
Yesterday morning saw the flock outside foraging the yard and enjoying the outstanding weather. I had even plucked mama off the nest and she joined in on the ranging for a good hour at least before returning to the now empty nest.

The early afternoon found me needing to leave to attend to errands, so I readied myself to herd the flock back into the run. By this time they were buried deeply in one of their favorite dust bath spots (NOT, I am pleased to say, under my neighbors' bush!). I stepped outside and was greeted by Not My Cat who has been lurking about once again for free meals and time to gaze wistfully at Osha through the open window. Loose cats and chickens normally do not mix, but Not My Cat has proven that he has no interest in molesting my chickens. I also have to figure that he has no interest in running afoul of Coq Au. Yet, he would be directly in the path of where I needed to herd the flock through. I told Not My Cat to 'sod off' as I had already given him a free meal this morning and he was completely unmoved at my brusque admonition. I grabbed my rake to herd the flock. Please note! For those of you checking into this story for the first time, the rake is NOT used to strike the hens ever, ever, ever. Just waving it overhead simulates a low flying predator. It now no longer strikes terror in my flock, but there is still enough instinctual knowledge within these domesticated birds to get them moving reluctantly in the direction of safety.

So, with rake in hand, I went to their bathing spot. A goodly shake of the rake got them standing and moving slowly toward their run. Even the defiant Hermione stood up without resistance and shook the dust off. But wee Lilly sat their. She wasn't defiant, but she gazed wistfully at me and with small voice said:

"But the sun is so nice, and I don't want to go in yet. Can't I please stay for just a little while?"

"No, sweet, I'm sorry, but it's time to go in." I sympathetically replied.

She stood up, but even with a gentle overhead shake of the rake, she would not start walking off with the others. She gazed longingly at the warm scar in the earth that she had scratched out for herself and just wanted to relax, poor baby. So, I carefully picked her up and held her nestled in my one arm while the other took to waving the rake at the rest of the slow moving flock.

Lilly in one hand, rake in the other, I slowly advanced, but tree was great confusion. They did not want to cross paths with Not My Cat and gave him a wide berth through the shrubbery instead. I was obliged to follow to keep them on their protracted course toward home. With some effort at juggling Lilly, waving the rake, advancing through the shrubbery, keeping the affectionate, yet greedy, cat at bay, and keeping the flock on course, they eventually made it back into the run. Treats for all and order was made out of the chaos.

Everyday is like a mini adventure.