Chris went to New York last week. While he was there, he saw Tina, who sent us a whole slew of Tattly tattoos. Much fun was had by all.
Category: chickens
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Bantam egg
Our bantam chicken just began laying. That’s a regular egg on the right and the bantam egg on the left. This photo does not properly convey how ridiculously cute they are.
I suddenly want to make tiny little omelets.
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Mosh visits preschool
She happened to be molting during bird week, providing an excellent explanation of how feathers emerge.
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Real life Easter egg hunt
The thing about raising free-range chickens is that when they begin laying, they might not always choose the nesting box in the coop.
All our new chickens are old enough to be laying, but we haven’t seen an increase in egg production. This means the chickens have found other places to lay. This usually sorts itself out over the winter, as the snow forces the chickens to lay in the coop, and then it becomes habit. But until then? It’s a bit of a mystery.
Tom tipped us off that he kept seeing the easter egger, Jasmine, making a run for the pole barn in the morning, which is prime laying time. Neko led the charge, and off we went to hunt for eggs. I hadn’t even made it to the pole barn when they’d already found the stash.
We sent Ellery to retrieve the eggs, as she was little enough to wiggle her way in to the tight spot. We counted 15 gorgeous green eggs. Everyone was delighted and ran around, retelling the story and fighting over who got to carry the eggs back to the house. Not that we can eat them, as we have no idea how old they are, but, good golly, they look lovely on the counter.
Every now and then I bemoan how long it takes me to get to Target or that I don’t have every fantastic amenity at my fingertips. (Oh, to have good Thai food in our neck of the woods!) It is then I try to remember moments like these.
Mornings in muddy pajamas and boots, conquerers of a real life Easter egg hunt. Posing victoriously on the tractor, chicken in hand. Giggling at Mother Nature, and how she likes to keep us on our toes.
I realize they might end up city-dwellers one day, but I hope these little bits get woven into who they become. I hope that someday, while they wander amongst skyscrapers, every now and then they’ll chuckle about 15 green eggs, one rogue chicken, and a whole lot of laughter.
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Halloween and the last bits of fall
It’s been a busy October.
We got pumpkins, but had yet to carve them. Tom had to scoot out of town, so Nancy and Mary Beth came to join us for one of the last amazing fall evenings we’re going to have around these parts. One of those spontaneous evenings you never could have planned.
Neko and Mary Beth went to work on this amazing campfire scene, creating a fire pit out of kindling and spare gravel and a fire out of shavings from the pumpkin rind. We cozied up to the faux fire and got a start on pumpkin carving.
Silliness, good conversation, and magic light ensued.
Turns out chickens think faux pumpkin fire is delicious.
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Chickenvision
About once a day I pass by a door and notice the chickens staring in at us.
Usually I feel a little sad that they’re stuck outside and we’re inside, with all the comforts of our home.
But every now and then, I suspect we people are actually like animals in the zoo. I think the chickens are staring in the window, thinking, “Now that’s a peculiar bunch.”
Those dirty windows? Please have a conversation with the dogs about that.
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Half a day in under one minute
http://player.vimeo.com/video/29459069
When Tina featured this time-lapse camera, I immediately threw it on a list of things to get for Tom’s birthday. Turns out I have impeccable taste, when I walked into our kitchen a few days ago, and noticed one set up on our windowsill.
Really, it is impossible to shop for this man.
Anyway, little did I know it had been on since mid-afternoon. I probably wouldn’t have changed into pajamas quite so early had I known.
I think my favorite part of the whole video is that somehow the chickens got into the house in the middle of it all. This proves, as I’ve always suspected, they live some sort of crazy secret agent life where they do unimaginable things while we’re all at work and school.
Also, it should be noted that really our television is not on quite that much. Two of the kids were home sick that day. Really. Truly. And we should probably put away all that laundry. And it’s time to get rid of that balloon that someone hung on the fireplace.
I can’t wait to see what else we do with this camera! I’m thinking this would be the perfect way to document the crazy of Christmas morning, don’t you?
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Lost and found
I know, you’re probably thinking, “That first photo? What in the world is that?”
And, yes, my friends, you are right. It’s a horrible photo that looks like nothing. And that is the whole point of my story today. That big pile of sticks, remnants of the big wind storms, looks like absolutely nothing.
Let me back up for a moment.
We have this chicken named Blob. (Yes, she’s a girl. And, yes, that is her name. This is what happens when you let young boys obsessed with video games name chickens.)
If Sarah Palin hadn’t gotten to it first, Blob could have defined “going rogue.” We have no idea when she started laying eggs last fall, because she always laid somewhere in the woods. At first I suspected she was a dud in the laying department, but when the first snow rolled around, I caught her in nesting box. It was this huge gotcha moment followed by celebration.
So she laid in the coop all winter.
But once spring rolled around, she went back to her old ways. One day Tom found a few eggs, laid delicately on the seat of the tractor.
I’ve been noticing the absence of green eggs in the coop lately. It’s left me wondering.
Then today Neko was mucking about in the yard and suddenly started screaming, frantically pointing to the big pile of sticks. And there, in the midst of the debris, lay SEVENTEEN GREEN EGGS.
In case you don’t do chicken math, that’s nearly a month worth of eggs.
Of course, we had throw them all away, because they don’t come stamped with an expiration date. And I suspect she doesn’t lay in a methodical left to right order.
This is the chicken that is going to live until the age of 10. In addition to staying close enough to be tripped over, but just far enough away to slip past when I need to shuffle her into the coop, she will taunt me with her covert egg laying, scoffing at the whole cost of feed vs. cost of eggs ratio. I suspect we will grow old and cranky together.
There’s some nugget of a sitcom here. Golden girls with a poultry twist.
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Merging the flocks
In our second year of this chicken thing, I feel like we have much of it down. Not perfect, but feeling pretty competent.
New this year, however, is the merging of the flocks. We need to introduce the new chickens, who have been residing in the house, to the old chickens, who have staked the entire farm out as their domain.
We’ve been letting them all share the outdoors off and on during the day. Mostly the older girls act like high school seniors, who are clearly way too cool to talk to the freshman. But every now and then, they seem to share the same space.
I’m admittedly nervous about their first night in the coop together, and am contemplating ridiculous thoughts, like running a baby monitor out there, so I can intercede if there are any scuffles.
Is that weird? Someone please tell me that’s not weird.
