Category: Chickens

Photo Friday: over the river and through the woods

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Once upon a Monday I drove 68 miles (one way) to meet a woman who sells very inexpensive plants from her home.  I told Bob about going and he quickly quipped:  “With the price of gas being almost $4.00 a gallon just how much money are you saving here?”

Well, I had to admit that it was probably next to nothing in savings, but hey,  it afforded me the opportunity to get out with my camera and see some more of Alabama, as well as the chance to talk to someone besides kitties, dogs, and chickens!

On my way I stopped and took a few photos of:

A  derelict old building…

Lead Paint over Stucco

A covered foot bridge…

A Cowboy Church…

The church’s concept is intriguing don’t you think?

Note the hay bale bench on the left, and the corral on the side!

and the Dam Cafe which “…serves damn fine BBQ too!”  Or so I’ve been told… 😉

NOTE:  Having been highly recommended by the lovely Plant Lady, I wanted to stop in on the way out and get some for that night’s dinner,  but they were closed!

Then I followed a very curvy road through an oak forest to arrive  here!

(I wish this image was sharper, but you get the effect at any rate.)

The Plant Lady told me that they had found an old house that was being torn down, so they acquired these doors and retrofit them to make an entry to their screen porch!  I, of course, love her color choice!  Don’t you?

Now when I left that morning I had imagined that I would get my plants and be off, but as it happens, the lovely lady who lives here was a chicken lover like myself,

This is the biggest rooster I have ever seen!  He must have been over two feet tall!  Well, OK I’m embellishing a bit, but he really was very big!

and an artist as well as gardener of native plants!

This garden is a mix of native and other plantings, but it is done with a very natural effect!  It was very peaceful here.

And so it was that we ended up spending the afternoon together talking about the things that were important to us.   Her plants, native gardening, her children, and the state of the school system were among the many topics discussed.

During this time we walked across the road to see one of many inlets along the Tennessee River.

On our return I saw a shy Red Fox in the tree studded meadow behind her home.  How I wished I could have gotten close enough to get a better shot!  Having never seen one in the wild before I found myself holding my breath, as if in so doing he might linger for my camera’s lens, but he did not!  Instead he ran off into the deeper grass and disappeared from view altogether.  I must admit that I was only a little bit disappointed at not getting a better photograph, because after all…  the very fact that I got to see him was a gift.

All too soon it was time to go home and I had over an hours drive ahead of me.  It is a funny thing, but driving back the way you came, the miles seem fly by and you arrive home in no time at all!

So what did I get from the lovely plant lady?  Red bud trees, Joseph’s coat ground cover, Lamb’s Ears, Monarda (aka: red bee balm) variegated Solomon’s Seal, Wild Phlox, and May Apples!  All the native plants went out under the Fringe Tree at the head of the drive, and the trees (also native) are to be planted along the edge of our parking area giving us a gorgeous view in spring, and a bit of shade in summer…

Perhaps more importantly I made a new friend, and that is priceless!

~*~

Notes:  These photos of my visit were taken on April 24 of 2011,  three days prior to the horrible tornado outbreak in our region.  Hence, my delay in posting this lovely visit.  Sorry it took me so long.

Also, out of respect for the plant lady’s wishes, I’ve restricted my photos to the environment about her home.  Just in case you wondered.  Oh yes, and the lovely lady and her family were all OK!!!  🙂

It’s what I do

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A coworker once asked me about my weekend, which launched me into a conversation monologue about my chickens.   I told her my husband and I had built some security into their run because of hawk problems, and that I had mucked out the chicken palace.  At that last comment she snorted incredulously,

“You enjoy doing that?“

to which I replied,

“Well, yes I do.”

My chickens and geese depend on me.  I get up, don my “Fashionable attire for feeding chickens and geese on COLD mornings,”  brace myself, walk out the door, and set to work.

The routine is the same, it never varies by much except for how cold it gets.  Today the ice on the chicken’s water is only the thickness of cardboard.  Once last year it was over an inch thick and I had to go out and crack it again midday!  This morning I easily break it with my wellies, and then reaching in with my ungloved hand, I lift out the shards.  My fingers burn from the icy chill.  Quickly I dry them on my wooly robe, and just as quickly reglove them.

Next, I let out Quasimodo and Miss Dixie, check for an egg, and grab their food dispenser to take with me to the barn for refilling.

Quasi is my special needs silky rooster.   He has curled toes, that make him hobble and lurch, and he’s blind in one eye from an infection he picked up as a baby chick.  Miss Dixie is a mixed breed, little white splash hen (Blue Andalusian and Buff Polish) who thinks that Quasimodo is the perfect mate… she can say,

“No, thank you dear.”

and there is nothing he can do about it.

Now, the fun begins!  It’s off to the barn to let out the geese.  As I near the roll up door I hear them becoming animated.   I try to sneak up on them every morning, but their little grunting noises tell me that they’ve once again heard the gate latch.  I approach the door and call out,

“Good morning duck-butts, good morning!”

Which gets them knocking on the metal door with their beaks in response.  Huey stretches his long neck under the door and rushes out, next comes Polly who strolls out, stops, and taking a moment, looks up at me as if to say,

“Good morning to you Missus!”  and  “What took you so long?”

Last is Little Dorrit, who once everyone else is out of the way, begins flapping her wings and honking as she becomes airborne!  This little morning flight gets her four feet up out of the straw and six feet out of the door.  When she lands she takes off running and honking to catch up.  I listen as her little flappy feet slap the frozen mud and I realize I’m smiling.

Last stop, the chicken palace.   I open the gate to the run and hear them all cooing inside.  Someone has gotten into someone else’ space in the door lineup inside the coop.  Squawking and rustling ensues.  I call out…

“Good morning stinkies, com’on out!”

I open the coop doors and they rush, tumbling beak-over-butt-feathers to get out and find breakfast.  Some days, I let them out first and when they realize the food isn’t there yet, they race back to me, and stopping they look up as if to say,

“What’s this trick?  Where’s breakfast?”

I refill their food dispenser, put food into the other chicken’s feeder, check their water and then go in to check for eggs.  This morning I find that there is one, freshly laid, blue-green jewel in the back nest.  Reaching in I pick it up and discover that it is still warm.  Removing my glove from the still frozen hand I take the egg and cradle it there.  It’s heat begins thawing my fingers as I place it into my pocket.  Unwilling to let go, I leave my hand there with the egg until it becomes too cool to work its magic.

Almost done!  Now, returning to the little coop, I hang the newly filled feeder for them, then looking back, I check quickly to be sure I haven’t left any gates open.

Pausing before I go in, I reach back into my pocket and pull out the little egg.   Looking at it I think,

“This is why I do it.”

~*~

My little reward from my girls for the time I take to keep them happy.

~*~

Ahem, if you haven’t clicked on the link to “Fashionable attire for feeding chickens and geese on COLD mornings”  then you’re missing out on a rare and candid view…  😉

~*~

A tough call: thoughts on not culling a chicken

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From time to time good animal husbandry practice would recommend that you cull a sick animal.  I have a sick chicken and was coming to grips with that fact for a week now.

The problem?  An impacted crop.  Evidently, she had eaten something that was blocking her crop, and it had become engorged.  It was three times the normal size and…

“What did she eat?” you ask.

Who knows with chickens!  It could have been anything, a piece of plastic, some straw, a length of string or a large blade of grass, any of which can be fatal if it gets lodged at the exit of their crop.  The diagram below shows you that number 4 is the crop.  This is a pigeon’s inside view, but it is very much based on the same organs as the chicken possesses.

Photo credit HERE

You may click for greater detail or just take my word for it that it is the large organ at the base of the neck and resting at the opening of the chest cavity.  😉

In an effort to avoid further impaction which could lead to infection and death, I began a twice daily regimen of massaging my poor little barred rock‘s crop.  She didn’t like it, and squawked in protest each time.  I can’t blame her!   A couple of days during this time I felt we were making some progress, but then by Sunday she had become very weak and thin.  She had wobbly knees but was trying to eat in spite of the over-full crop.  I continued to watch her closely for signs of other sickness that would be contagious to the rest of my chickens.  While an impacted crop will not affect the others, a distressed and weakened chicken can fall ill to various pathogens in the environment. If not carefully monitored she can then spread these to the whole flock.

Monday night I went out to lock up the Chicken Palace and she was sitting low on the roost.  Her feathers were fluffed up, her head was sunken into her shoulders, and her comb had gone pale.  I expected her to be gone by morning and told Bob my suspicions.

Tuesday morning I went out to the chicken yard and tried to prepare myself to do what was necessary if she was still lingering.  I opened the door and as is always the case the girls and Grayson came bounding out looking for breakfast, and so did the little barred rock!  I watched as she drank lots of water, ate like there was no tomorrow, and nearly nosed dived each time she bent down to do so.  It was then that I noticed her comb was a bright red like is should be and her frontal profile was much reduced!

So my little Barred Rock looks awful and puny,

but she is definitely on the mend!

~*~

It was a tough call, but I’m so glad I waited before doing anything rash.

Shut up: there is no reasoning with a crazy woman

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So yesterday my doorbell is ringing crazily, I get up and go to the door, open it, and…  Nothing.  No one is there, the mail lady’s truck is sitting at my post box and she is nowhere to be seen.

Weird.

I see that Helena my newest gosling girl is out and I run out for the tenth time to put her back inside her (electric) fence.  (How does she do it?)

Suddenly the mail lady comes dashing around the corner and I make out something like…

DOG!  CHICKENS!!!

I run to follow her as she goes back around the corner.  And there he is.  Twenty-five pounds of chicken terror on the paw and he has killed one of my chickens.   I have been chasing that little dog out of my yard for weeks now and finally told the owner:

“Keep the dog in your back yard or I will call animal control!” 

So after yesterday’s episode I called animal control.  Later, when I thought the parents would be in I go to tell them what happened…

Lowlights of the conversation:

“This dog???  He’s been inside all day!” (NOT!)  “That’s it this dog is dead!”  (I don’t want you to kill your dog I simply want you to keep it in your yard!)  “So the mail lady comes at 1:30, so why did you wait till now to come complaining?” (You were at work, I didn’t want the dog to get my baby goose too!)  The lady marches to the back of the property and I hear “MARWAR!”  (name withheld to protect the minor) “GIT OVER HERE NOW!!!   The rest was unintelligible except for the part about killing the dog again.

At this point I loudly interjected:  “I DON’T WANT YOU TO KILL YOUR DOG, JUST KEEP IT IN YOUR YARD!

We had this trouble (same neighbor) about a year ago when the two big dogs they owned then, got out and killed almost all of my chickens.  Their solution?  Send them to the pound. (You can read about that incident HERE)

Suddenly the lady is raging at me and calling me a liar, telling me her sons told her I had threatened to shoot them and their dog if they came onto my property again…

WHAT’S THIS?

Sorry lady but I don’t own a gun and I would never threaten anyone with being shot.  I tried to reason with her (it didn’t work) and finally told her that her child had lied to her and left.

Meanwhile… the neighbors got an earful.  I look over and there they are, standing there, just staring and cringing.

Why did I bother?

HINDSIGHT:  When dealing with a lady who goes from a conversational voice to shouting in less than  .00139 seconds, just shut up and leave.  There is no reasoning with an irrational woman and in a moment you will end up sounding just like her.  Honestly, just SHUT UP and walk away.  It’s better in the long run.

Next time I’ll come prepared.