Dark Days.

Dark Days.

The dark days of winter fell upon us. The cold and wet meant more time inside for herself and I and less yard time for the flock. They were able to get more sleep at night and egg production slowed just a little. Some hens shut down entirely in the worst of the cold, but our hard working girls kept right on laying, even if the rate was a little slower. When Yuletide rolled around I bought a ‘flock block’ to put in their coop. This is a massive hard packed seed treat thing, not unlike what others might put out for the wild birds to peck at in winter when foraging is scarce. This one was maybe 25lbs! This reason was more to stave off the boredom that comes from being ‘cooped up’ in bad weather (yeah, the expression actually comes from something). But, cold temps be damned, our chickens love being out in their run all day, every day. Down to temperatures in the teens they will still stand watch through the bitter hours desperate for some sun. The only days they elected to stay in the coop was on snow days (you can read my earlier post on the most recent snow day to gather their unchanging opinion on the matter).

 

All the while I was mindful of my task to spare my roosters life in spite of his best efforts to convince me that we should end it. These are the things I discovered about his behavior over that winter. He gets a ‘look’ about him when he’s spoiling for a fight. When the early dawn took, and I had to be ready for work before the sun was on high, I would go out to the coop, open the peep door, and let them into the run. Often, he would dash out and stand betwixt me and the girls and give me ‘the look’. I would never back down. It was in HIS interest that he had to learn the true pecking order of the household, and when he did take it in mind to charge, battle would be joined and he would end up the worse for it. I am ever grateful that my morning coffee was already strong about me so that I would be steeled for the morning task at hand. But this I also discovered: After he would retreat with as much dignity as he could muster, I would check the doings of the flock with as much time as I could before the daily trek to the office. I often found his attacks were because the flock had run short of feed. Sometimes because they ran short of water. He was alerting me that things were amiss and I needed to address the situation immediately. I was also learning to ‘chicken’ and discovered that it was only natural that with less foraging the yard, they were going through feed more quickly!

One day, they didn’t come out. I peered with bleary eyed attention into the peep door and noticed that not only was their feeder empty, they had knocked it over and it was blocking the exit. Still in my morning fog, I reached in through the peep door to right it once again and that son of a bitch bit me hard. Right on the meaty part of my hand between the thumb and the fingers. I drew back in pain, realized that he had not drawn blood, but it was to be a nasty bruise. I knew that once he tasted my blood, he would be itching for a taste of my internal organs, so I was grateful it was only a bruise. I went in through the large door amidst the now frantic girls and braved ‘the look’ he gave, refilled the feed and went to work.

To this day I’m not quite sure if he knew it was MY hand, or merely thought it was an intruder. Either way, I had come to realize that he would lay down his life willingly to defend that flock.

If I were to give an accurate, though anecdotal assessment of WHY he would choose to go on the attack on one morning over another I’d say the break down was approximately 50% something is wrong, no food, or something and 50% ‘you just piss me off in general and I’m coming for you.’

Turns out, a rooster has very complex emotions and he doesn’t seem to give a fig what my complex emotions are.

So after the first of the year … mind you, I was NOT giving up hope of a reconciliation … I called the local farm to discuss a replacement rooster. The woman that owned the farm (this is where we bought the chicks in the first place, so I had already had a few long discussions with her and found her to be a wonderful conversationalist) and I talked about a great many things. We talked about the lavender crossbreed rooster she had that she could part with, we talked about what to do about learning how to butcher a bird if the time came, we talked about the possibility of a zombie apocalypse … some folks are very strange indeed … and by that, I mean myself most of all. I gravitate to strange folks it seems. What struck me most of all was her confirmation that this was indeed all very common behavior for most roosters and that the temperament of any rooster was a crap shoot. She went on to describe her own ‘rooster-be-good’ stick that she carried with her whenever she attended to the doings of her own flock.

My mind was torn on the matter, but still tending toward sparing his life. I felt no great need to execute our first rooster if the result could easily be a rooster that was just as bad or worse. Besides that, I was getting the idea that he was committed to his job and at least half of the efforts he made in proving his wrath upon my body was in the sole interest of his girls.

Obsessed.

Obsessed.

Here is a list of some of obsessive things that casual chicken owners do. Remember, do NOT take advice from some jerk on the internet just because he writes a blog about it! Research!

1)      A little vinegar (cap full) in their waterer will keep bacteria down and aid their digestion. Of course, only the finest organic apple cider vinegar for our girls! Note: A little vinegar in the waterer may be good for the chickens, but if you have a galvanized steel font, it will rust out in a quick season! Lesson learned!

 

2)      A spoonful of diatomaceous earth stirred into their feed will prevent intestinal parasites and also aid in digestion. Note: This is true, but only use FOOD GRADE d.e. Pool grade contains harmful artificial silicates.

3)      Hot oatmeal. Yes, I give my girls hot oatmeal each morning with vegetables stirred in on a bed of greens. Things like this are extra, the main stay of their diet should be their regular feed. In late fall, we’ll add spices to help them metabolize the cold weather better. In winter, I’ll add sardines once a week. Usually, a banana goes in the oatmeal as well. Our pig Ruby loves this, she always gets the peel (and a piece or two of the banana!) Note: best is to have their regular feed available at all times. Best addition to this is as much time foraging the property for bugs and wild greens as possible. After that come treats … they’ll eat almost anything, but DO read up on what NOT to give them!

4)      Frozen treats in summer. Into a muffin pan I ladle out vegetables (peas, beans, whatever) into a muffin tin, top off with water, and freeze. Heat waves can be tough on fully feathered birds, so I’ll pop out a couple of these and the frozen veggies help them cope. Note: Corn is a fine treat to give them, even if it is a little devoid of nutrition, but the act of grinding and digesting the husks generates heat. They get more corn in winter than summer.

5)      Heat lamp. This is its own topic. Do NOT use a heat lamp unless you are SURE it is properly secured! An unsecured heat lamp that falls and comes into contact with the coop’s bedding can cause a fire and kill your birds. In a bad, bad way. Also, your birds don’t need it (if you have an all weather or cold weather breed). Silkies, for instance, have a hard time staying warm in winter so they would probably need the heat lamp. If you ARE going to use a heat lamp, besides being secure, I recommend a ‘thermocube’. This is a simple set thermostat usually used for heater waterers in livestock situations. When the ambient temperature reaches 35 degrees, it turns on. When the temps rise to 45 degrees it turns off again. My heat lamp and heated font (yeah, my spoiled chickens have that too) are plugged into this, it isn’t running constantly. It is only running when the bitter cold sets in. With a number of birds inside the coop at night, all generating their own heat, it doesn’t turn on right away even if OUTSIDE temps have dropped into the 20’s.

 

6)      Chicken swing. This is a swing that some obsessed people (including us) install in a run so that when the chickens get bored they can perch on it and keep themselves occupied by gently rocking back and forth. Thus far, our chickens have tried it exactly twice and it is in the ‘nope’ category for them.

There are a thousand other ways folks will spoil their chickens. Most of them completely unnecessary, but we do it anyway. At any rate, healthy, happy birds make healthy, happy eggs. They also make healthy, happy company.

Doting on Our Chicks and Building a Run.

Doting on our chicks and building a run.

If you’ve been reading along this far, you may realize that I mentioned that we were to get five hens and one roo, but provided eight names in all. Why? Because when we arrived to pick up the chicks there were eight in the wee hatchery at the farm. My wife looked at the chicks and then looked at me. Then she looked at the chicks and then again at me. So, I forked over the additional $11.98 and we ended up with eight baby chicks in all. The kind folks explained that the wee green patch under the chin of one of the chicks was an indication that one of them was, indeed, a roo. Then, they had me sign a legal document explaining that I was buying these birds as LIVESTOCK and not as pets … which is against the laws of nature, apparently. Not wanting to run afoul of the farm cops, or whatever state agency thinks that a reasonable person needs to be reminded that keeping a chicken in the house as a pet is a really dumb idea (and trust me, it is), I signed, paid, and herself and I were on our way with our little brood.

As for spoiling the new babies, I could list the things you should do to ensure healthy, happy babies, but that is all over the more educated chicken blogs so I’ll leave it to them to inform the curious. While we did the usual things such as measuring the feed, taking care of ‘pasty butt’, and playing with them (yes, that’s important too, they have no mother after all), the things we did above and beyond that include:

Playing Billie Holiday during daylight hours to sooth them and get them used to human voices even when we weren’t around.

Bringing in special treats that were age appropriate as they grew such as yogurt, bananas, later on a few meal worms, and the like.

Worrying over Myrtle’s bent toe (if caught right away, these can sometimes be fixed, but we felt Myrtle might have gone too long and trying to fix it may have made it worse … if a baby chick is debilitated due to this then the humane thing to do is put them down, but Myrtle was and is fine … bent toe and all).

Playing ‘baby chick tag’ … easy enough. After about a week, they are old enough for more treats. Toss in a blueberry. One chick will grab it and run and the others will give chase. It makes no difference if you toss in MORE blueberries … they will be ignored until the chase is sorted out.

Holding the baby chicks on your finger to teach them to perch and get used to being handled. None stood prouder on my finger than wee Coq Au Vin! (You remember Coq Au, this is a blog about Coq Au).

The cats took particular interest as well. I know their intentions were good and I am sure they would have liked to personally meet the baby chicks to ensure their health and welfare, but my wife and I thought the stress of it all would’ve been too much for our two felines and we didn’t want to expose them to all of that worry. So, Moonkie and Osha were relegated to staying OUT of that room, though they did often perch themselves at the door outside desperately trying to peer under the crack.

Quick side note concerning the naming of cats. Herself and I are TV junkies and one of our ‘stories’ we like to watch is Game of Thrones. With this in mind and realizing the importance of naming cats their full names are as follows …

The cat we chose:
Moonkitty Veronica Corningstone-Masters Gill Esq., the Doonk of Donkey, and the first of her name.

The abandoned cat that no one wanted who came to live with us:
Osha Street (‘street’ being the bastard name given to illegitimate births in the NJ part of the realm).

What you’re thinking is correct. My wife and I are not well.

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking on getting the run ready. I built the run myself, but part of making it secure is by digging a trench around it and burying the chicken wire a good half a foot underground to prevent digging predators. Yes, this is a real thing.

Here’s a short story about it from my distant past:
When I was small, my parents decided to get chickens and with five acres surrounded by MANY acres of protected woodlands this was not even an issue. They converted an old shed and obtained some chickens from the neighbors. They built and open top run and didn’t bury the wire. The run was tree covered, so threat from birds of prey was minimal. Well … one night a raccoon had gotten into the coop and the hens kicked up quite a fuss, as did Romeo (the old rooster we had). Now, I love and respect wild life … I respect life in all of its forms. But when there is a predator in the coop, they need to be dispatched. Raccoons are cute, funny, adorable little animals with as much right to live and follow their nature as any other living being … but when cornered in the back of your hen house, muzzle covered in the blood of the injured hen before him, they are a lot less adorable. He found himself on the wrong side of my father’s thirty aught six. The hen also needed to be put down and thus two lives were wasted.

Not wanting to repeat a scene like that if at all avoidable, I decided I needed to dig the damn trench and bury the wire. My day to day desk job means that doing this kind of physical labor could’ve been difficult and overly time consuming by myself with the chicks getting larger day by day … so plying them with the promise of beer and pizza, I bribed my close friends to come over with shovels and help. I love my friends and they turned out in grand fashion! Trench was dug and the run up in a day. Only thing left for me over the next few days was burying the cinder blocks placed in the trench on top of the buried wire and fashion a door to the coop. None of this is in anyway exciting, but never the less I am proud of my efforts, grateful to my friends, and to this day, years later, the run is still as solid as fort Knox. The photo is from summer 2016 and everything is still good to go. Anyone wanting the incredibly dull minutia of the details of its construction is welcome to ask in the comments.