Papaya Picking at The Fancy Chicken Farm

The Fancy Chicken Duckumentory - BABIES!

Two weeks ago five new duck nests were discovered on the grounds of The Fancy Chicken Farm.  We will be following their progress as the momma ducks sit and hatch out some cute little baby ducklings.  Please stay tuned for updates at the farm.

The Fancy Chicken Duckumentory - Phase I

This week five new duck nests were discovered on the grounds of The Fancy Chicken Farm.  We will be following their progress as the momma ducks sit and hatch out some cute little baby chicks.  Please stay tuned for updates at the farm.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Hiers Hens Version

Today we take a look back at our 2015 Christmas project, The Twelve Days of Chicken Christmas by Hiers Hens (and cat).  We hope everyone had as much fun seeing each of the days as we had creating them using our hens, some silly props and, in some cases, a

 lot of photoshop.

Kara, the Golden Cuckoo, as our Partridge in a Pear Tree

Lulu, a Golden Cuckoo attempts Two Turtle Doves.

Fran, (Buff Orp), Lois (Dominique) and Marie (Buff Orp)

Marie (Buff Orp) Lois (Dominique)
Elsie (Blue Laced Wyandotte) & Alma (Blue Laced Wyandotte)

Elsie (Blue Laced Wyandotte)

Queenie (Cream Legbar) Alma (Wyandotte) Marie (Buff Orp) Lulu (Golden Cuckoo) and Maxine (Black Tail Buff Maran)

Stunt doubles so the ladies wouldn't catch cold

 Nine Ladies Dancing

Click to watch the Nine Ladies Dancing GIF

Fran (Buff Orp)

Wish I could say all eleven ladies participated.  Most were not thrilled with standing near a fake flute.

All eleven of our chickens are represented, including a stand-in 12th chicken, Otis the cat.

We have a whole year to prepare for next year's production...I wonder what it will be...

The Third Time Charm

Almost exactly one year ago I posted a blog about our broody hen, Elsie.  We had procured some fertile eggs from farmer friends and anxiously awaited the sound of tender young peeps.  At the time I asked folks to stay tuned for a blog update while Elsie sat vigil on those eggs.  That next post never came with an update.  The outcome, for me, was just too sad.  Elsie hadn't failed as a mother but I had failed completely as a caretaker.  Not one egg hatched successfully.  I failed my girl and I was too embarrassed to speak of it.

Here we are a year later.  Elsie (late in March) went broody yet again.  It would be the third time since we've had her.  Persistence seem is her strong suit. Turns out that is not her only strong suit.

The signs are obvious when my darling Elsie turns broody.  The growling.  The insistence on sitting on EVERYONE'S eggs.  The complete refusal to leave the nesting box.  Elsie means business and Elsie wanted her own babies.  I wanted her to have her own babies and this year, God willing, I would NOT fail her.  All I needed was a little help from my friends.  A call was placed to Solace Farms, home of The Fancy Chicken.  Even though I blew it last year with every bad call in the hatching book, Mark and Michael, owners of The Fancy Chicken, entrusted me with a dozen fertile eggs for Elsie.

A day before the fertile eggs arrive, Elsie is moved from the coop to her own "maternity" ward inside our home office.  An extra large dog crate became her make-shift coop with a comfy nesting box, temperature controlled environment, plenty of food, water and peace.  Peace and quiet.

The eggs arrive.  A crazy assortment of blue, light and dark brown eggs get placed in Elsie's nesting box.  Being the good mamma, she carefully arranges each and every egg under her feathered body and hunkers down for the long haul.  Mamma is content.

While mamma is content, I am not.  I am the pacing, worry-wart, over-thinker who blew it last year. I have 20 days to worry they may not hatch. I pray that if just one little peep hatches it will be a true miracle and a complete success.  I can't bare another failure.  Not for me or for Elsie.

The wait begins.  Elsie sits.  She sits A LOT.  She is still sitting.  I'm pacing.  I'm peeking.  She is sitting.  Will this bird ever get up and eat?  Take one lousy drink?  Stretch a leg?  How is she not cramping up?  Is there a chicken version of a charlie horse?  Apparently not since she continues to sit....days go by.  She sits.  And sits.  Roughly day five hits and I hear a rustling and a bit of commotion and smell a smell of the dead.  My heart sinks... have I blown it again?  I peek in to see my dear, sweet girl getting a quick drink and a much needed bite to eat.  And, my dear has left me the biggest, smelliest chicken pooh EVER.  And its back to sitting....

I am tempted to copy and past the previous paragraph over and over so you can read it over and over and over, just the way it happened in my office.  Sitting, sitting, rustle, quick drink, stinky poop, sitting.  I will save you that and skip forward to the night before her due date.  Clearly I am on edge. We are hovering over the due date and this time I've done better.  I've been hands off.  I'm hoping I've done it right.  Elsie has done all the important work.  I continue to pray for just one egg before going to sleep...And then I dream and in that dream we hatch two fried eggs, a sparrow and a Wiemaraner puppy.  (Don't ask, it was a dream.  A very bad dream where at least I hatched something. albeit a sparrow and a puppy )

Day 20.  My husband and I are sitting in our home office before work.  No doubt we are both on Facebook or checking bank balances when my husband says...did you hear that?  I clearly heard Elsie shifting about so yes, I heard that.  Again my husband says No, listen, did you hear that?  I stop.  I listen.  And there it is...the tiniest, sweetest little peep.  Its real.  It is the one egg  I  needed to not be failures.  I peek in at Elsie.  She is content, quiet, unaffected.  I can hear the peep but I can't see it. I'm in tears and Elsie is a mom.

Over the next 24 to 36 hours my dear sweet Elsie becomes a mom over and over.  I peek in later and there are three...then five, wait six.  Our final count comes in at EIGHT!  It is ridiculous that I have spent a good portion of that time near happy tears.  Elsie has conquered motherhood and done it very successfully without my help.   In the weeks to come I learn  far more from Mamma bird.

Easter Eggs or How I got my baby chicks

Two years ago our adventure into raising chickens began.  Coincidentally, it began on Easter weekend.

Last year we decided to add to our flock and what better time than again on an Easter weekend.  Enter Elsie & Alma, the Wyandottes.

Our flock is at a comfortable six hens and this Easter approached.  While I secretly wanted another baby chick, it didn't seem like we were going to make it happen.  Was it even practical getting just one chick?  I wasn't going to press and it seems there wasn't a need.  Elsie had her own ideas of what needed to happen and she let us know, without question, it was time for her to be mom.

Elsie, this Easter weekend, went broody, AGAIN.  This time, she isn't fooling around.  The hen has set up residence in the left nesting box and she isn't going to budge.  Just ask her and you will get a very serious growl.  Elsie wants to be a mom and she means business.

After consulting some friends/experts at The Fancy Chicken in Loxahatchee and some friends on line at Backyardchicken.com, it was decided.  Elsie will be getting a clutch of fertilized eggs so she can hatch herself a little family.  The Fancy Chicken has been kind enough to provide us with the needed eggs and will even take back any babies that turn out to be roos.

Stay tuned for Elsie's adventure into motherhood!

Three days at Shawshank

Since there is a chicken currently residing in my home office, I must get this off my chest.  Either Elsie, our RED laced Wyandotte chicken, is channeling Ellis “Red” Boyd, or she has gone broody.  Hmmm, notice the similarities in name....Elsie....Ellis.  No wonder she was the one to go Shawshank on me.

Angry, Broody Elsie refusing to budge from the nesting box earlier this week.

Elsie, the chicken, has gone broody.  What that means:

•  She doesn't want to eat.
•  She refuses to leave the nesting box causing an actual "waiting line" of chickens trying to lay an egg this afternoon.
• She is plucking her own feathers to keep her baby “plastic egg”  and her sister's real eggs warm
•  And she is wreaking havoc with all the other chickens with her growly, moody antics.

All this because she really, really , really wants to have a baby.

Much as I would love to let Elsie nest away and hatch a clutch of cute, little, baby chicks, we had to take drastic measures.  You see, we don't have a rooster so no baby chicks can happen here.  And, from what I understand, if a chicken goes broody and can’t actually become a mom, bad things happen.

• Weight loss
• Dehydration
• Aggressive behavior
• And that really long waiting line at the nesting box

"Red" waiting her time in solitary.

Our only recourse….Solitary confinement in a cool, quiet area.  As I type this, Elsie is sitting in her cell, a dog crate in my home office, with only food and water and a short roost.  Seems a bit sad but this is the most calm she has been in three days.  From what I've read in various chicken blogs, she will be in the office for a few days before getting parole and then it might go something like this…

2014 Parole Hearings Woman: Elsie chicken, your files say you've served 3 days of a broody chicken sentence. Do you feel you've been rehabilitated?

Red: Rehabilitated? Well, now let me see. You know, I don't have any idea what that means.

2014 Parole Hearings Woman: Well, it means that you're ready to rejoin the chicken society...

Red: I know what you think it means, missy. To me, it's just a made up word. A politician's word, so young ladies like yourself can wear a suit and a tie, and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?

2014 Parole Hearings Woman: Well, are you?

Red: There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid chicken who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to her. I want to try to talk some sense to her, tell her the way things are. But I can't. That chicken’s long gone, and this old bird is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, missy, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a chicken shit….

Stay tuned to see just when Elsie gets parole and is allowed back in the yard with her sisters.

Alma's Science Fair Egg Experiment

Remember the Science Fair?  Remember watching or participating in events like Build a Boat Out of Ping Pong Balls or Grow Beans in Microwaved Water vs Plain Tap?  It seems I have a chicken who has entered herself in her own Science Fair.

First, in egg laying, all chickens are not created equal.  Some are big egg layers. Some are loud egg layers and some, like my two Wyandottes, are not "straight to the nesting box" kind of gals.  The first Wyandotte to lay, Elsie, would lay her eggs in the dog house.  It only took me about four days to figure that out and redirect her to a safer spot, the nesting box.  She took to it right away once it was pointed out.

Next, meet Alma.  Alma is one of our Blue Laced Red Wyandottes and she is almost a year old. Alma is a very special chicken.  Alma is a student of physics whose goal is to successfully lay and egg from the highest point in the coop without breaking.  It would be quite the feat and this little girl  is up for the challenge.

Over the course of two weeks we would periodically find an egg inside the coop, broken and outside the nesting box.  My first thought was an angry chicken kicked it out as part of a "pecking order" protest.  But it kept happening.  Day after day of broken egg.  Then a Saturday rolled around and I was able to observe who was laying and when.  One by one the ladies took their turns in the nesting boxes until Alma was ready to lay.  In to the coop she went.  Then back out.  Then back in. In and out for several rounds of confusion until in she went and stayed.  After a few moments I heard it.  The awkward flapping and stumble of a chicken going to bed.  Going to bed?  Its 2 in the afternoon!  I carefully peek in the coop and there she is, Alma on high.  

Alma, preparing to lay an egg from the highest roost in the coop.

Much to our amazement, Alma manages to not only lay her egg but she drops it from about three feet and it lands successfully in the crevice between the coop door and floor.  Please forgive the chicken pooh splotches.  It is life in the coop. 

Seriously?  How did she do this?

The ledge egg, unbroken.  Rather amazing

Who lays an egg, drops it three feet and has it land exactly in this two inch gap?  Alma really needs to play MouseTrap.  (Yeah, I'm dating myself here)

A few days later, she inches closer to the mark.  And, I get smart and line the coop floor with several inches of shavings to "break" the fall of our precious egg.

We seem to be getting closer to the mark.

Alma ended up proving her point.  She could lay an egg where ever and when ever she wanted.  We are very grateful that she decided the nesting box was good enough....for now.

Success!

A Bird in the hand...falls asleep?

From the beginning it was important to me that I can handle my hens with ease.  In the event of an emergency where one of the ladies needed to be picked up and held (injury, illness, what ever) I wanted to know I could easily handle the bird.

As baby chicks they were picked up and held and coddled on a daily basis. (Who can resist a baby chick?)  As adult hens they no longer get picked up and held every day but it is still important to know the ladies will allow being held.  One thing I have discovered in this process, each lady has varying degrees of acceptance with my task.  All tolerate the event.  Big Fran, the Buff Orp, makes the most fuss.  When put down she always shakes and ruffles her feathers in disgust.  The look on her big, beaked face is "Quelle Horreur!"

The very angry bird, Fran.

This evening I was reminded which hen clearly makes the least fuss.  Each of the ladies had their turn and last in line was Lois, a Dominque.  One would think with a name like DOMinque there would be a bit of DOMinance but not the case with LoLo.  She is our low hen on the chicken totem pole.

I pick up little Lois and she quietly nestles in my arm.  No fuss with this chicken.  I give her a pat and start chatting with my husband about the yard.  After a few minutes I notice she has hunkered down nicely with no apparent desire to to leave.  Hubby and I continue to chat and walk about, all the while holding sweet Lois.  Again, I look down to check on my chick and this is what I see...

Little Lois taking a nap

As long as I'm walking (and not just moving but actual walking) Lois remains asleep.  Am I her chicken whisperer?  Perhaps, as low chicken in the pecking order, I am her safe zone.  No one can get to her.  No one can peck her.  No one can stop her from getting a little shut eye.

Release the ladies

The ladies hunkered down after a very cold evening and this morning they were ready to get out and free range in the sun.

Icebox Chicken or Learn How to Knit While No One is Watching

I'm not sure if I actually took the "I Promise Not to Get All Crazy" vow when I first brought my chickens home two years ago, but in my mind I have promised it to myself. I, Sarah Hiers, do solemnly swear NOT to go completely overboard with my chickens.

I'd like to think I also promised it to my husband but he may dispute that fact.  He also may disagree on the definition of "Get All Crazy".   I say, No hats or capes.  No sweaters.  No dressing of chickens.  He may say the picture framed windows and family portrait in the coop teeters on the edge.

In the two years we have had our ladies they have weathered quite a bit.  They have 'weathered" stifling heat, fireworks, two floods and a tropical strength storm.  Tonight the temps are expected to drop into the low 30's.  Here in South Florida they might as well call in the National Guard.  While my reasonable brains suggests they are chickens who can weather the cold in their coop tonight, I can't help but think...hats?  sweaters?  Maybe a stylishly warm cape?

 Ok, back to reasonable self:

• Chickens have 8,300 feathers and know how to arrange them just right so they stay warm
• Warmth in numbers.  There are six ladies and they snuggle together every night.  Tonight will be no different.
• I don't have time to learn to knit six tiny sweaters while convincing my husband I haven't lost my mind.

Tonight I'm sure I will check on the ladies several times before myself retiring.  Tonight I'm sure I will get soft little coos and purrs coming from the coop and possibly a stink eye for accidentally waking up my warm and sleepy little girls.  I'll try to tip toe and I'll try not to secretly sneak on to Amazon to buy ready made capes and hats.

Elsie, the Blue laced Red Wyandotte, ready for bed.

All In A Row...well, almost all

Happy 2014 from all at Hiers Hens...well, almost all.

We have decided to start out the year on yet another molt...or maybe its just the dark winter...but only four of our six ladies have kept up laying on a regular basis.  Below is our egg in take from January 1 in order of appearance.  On that particular day Dolores and Lois decided to sit out.

There may be something slightly kooky about this, but I love that I can identify the which egg came from which chicken.

January 1, 2014

1. Elsie the Blue Laced Red Wyandotte lays lovely brown, smooth almost round eggs.
2. Alma the lighter Blue Laced Red Wyandotte lays a lighter egg with white speckles.  (sorry for the poor photography.  the speckles do not appear)
3. The lighter brown, smooth egg is from my Queen Bee, Marie and finally,
4. The granddaddy of all eggs comes from Fran.  How does that chicken push out such a large egg?

The New Waiting Game...

It was just over a year ago I was writing about the excitement of our first egg and the unexpected behaviors that come before the first egg is laid.

To begin, there is the first time you hear a real, authentic "clucking" sound.  Not the cute little peeping purring cooing sounds the chicken makes when wandering about, but a real cluck.  The sound was not just surprising for us but seemingly for the chicken as well.

Then there is the squatting and confusion of where to be.(The chickens, by the way, were squatting and confused.  Not me.  Well, I was a bit confused...)  Once the ladies begin to squat when approached you know they are maturing and eggs will be on their agenda. I like to call it "pancaking".

In 2012, at 21 weeks our Buff Orpingtons produced their first cluck.  At week 23, the squat, aka pancake. And then the EGG.  At our coop, the chicken clearly came BEFORE the egg.

Alma and Elsie April 2013

Lets fast forward to 2013...where we are today...and our New waiting game.  In April we brought home two adorable Blue Laced Red Wyandotte chicks.  It is now November and week 32.  Scarcely have we heard a cluck (and it came during distress) and not one remote sign of a squat.

These little ladies are hold outs.  Maybe they know we have a workshop in three weeks and they want to wait and show off.  Maybe they think the other ladies have it under control.  All I know is we are back to the waiting game...

Elsie & Alma today

Backyard Hens Make Headlines!

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

When I was a kid someone sent me a birthday card that said:
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To meet his friend, Gregory Peck.

Silly but I've never forgotten that.

Now I have and have had chickens and the ladies live exclusively in my back yard.  Unless, of course, I leave the gate open.  In the event of an accidentally ajar gate, the ladies high-tail it through the side yard and head for the neighbor across the street.

Why always the neighbor across the street?  Why not the neighbor to the left or right?  Always its across the street.  So, can someone please tell me...

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Helicopter Mom

On occasion I wonder.  Was it a mistake to not have children?  Should I have been a mother?  Did I miss out on something?

Over the years I have envisioned the type of mother I saw myself.  The cool mom who was strict but still fun. The mom who had clearly defined rules but a heart.  The mom who shot hoops in her work attire, sans shoes, if the kid wanted to play when I drove in the drive.

I never did have a child of my own and I do not regret that decision.  It was the right one for me.

What does all this have to do with chickens, you ask?

Recently, I have discovered my chickens do not get (what I feel) is enough free range time.  The more they free range, the healthier they will be.  The more eggs they will lay.  The less feed I need to buy. The happier they will be.  The more content the flock.  And who doesn't want a happy family?

Why do they not get enough free range time?  It appears I am not the cool mom.  I am the helicopter mom.

My chickens, up until recently, could not free range with out supervision.  If I was not out with them then my husband was on duty. We tag-teamed when necessary. Our Belgian Shepard was used as a very temporary chicken sitter.  Big dog was in charge during bathroom breaks.  If I was "On Duty" or my husband or big dog, nothing could happen. No hawks, no snakes, no possum.  The ladies were safe.

Its time to let go.  Its time to park the helicopter on the pad and go in the house.  Time to go on about my day.  The ladies are fine on their own in their fenced back yard with their Mack-daddy coup and run.

Today they have been out since dawn.  I have peeked out the window.  I have ran errands.  I have thrown them a snack and watched them run for cover during a big rain.  The helicopter is in park.  The girls are one their own and doing fine.

But the big dog does still get to play chicken sitter...

And Then The Clumsy Ninja Came To Town

Recently I spotted a cute meme on Facebook and it really got me thinking...

When I was single I had a cat and two dogs.  Having the cat was like not having a cat. The dogs were work.  The dogs required attention. The cat seemed to require nothing. Since the cat was free-fed I only had to check her food bowl periodically. Since the cat was an only cat I only had to check the liter box periodically. She kept to herself up high. Having a cat was like not having a cat.

High Cat napping outside and out of sight

Fast forward six years.  I meet and marry the man of my dreams and, in turn, marry his cat.  Oliver is old, very old.  Oliver is low cat, living under the beds, slinking under tables. The only sight of him is when he sneaks into the dirty laundry and makes off with one of my shirts.  For two years we live with two essentially non-existent cats.

A rare photo of high cat and low cat sharing the same plane

One sad day we lost our low cat.  Then suddenly, without warning or forethought, a tiny, tiny motherless stray came into our life.  Such a wee thing that at first clings to me like glue.  I can't say no and for weeks my husband refuses to acknowledge her presence because we don't NEED another cat.  (Of course he comes around.  Who can resist a kitten?)


While tiny, tiny Lily is very young she is an old soul. She becomes the new mid-level cat. The new non-existent cat.  We are only aware of her presence when entering the house and calling her name.  We get a couple quick chirps letting us know her whereabouts, then silence.  High cat is somewhere being high cat.  Lily is somewhere being mid cat.  It remains as such for a year.

Lily and Poods during the calm before the Otis Storm

Eight or nine months ago I'm asked to help start a FaceBook page for some stray kittens. Regular posts are made, photos are updated and everyday one little face wont stop staring back. One little face has me in his clutches and there is no escape. Enter one little, tiny, clumsy Otis.

Right about now I'm thinking this would be a very good place to insert the JAWS shark theme music.

While we still have high cat.  And we will have mid-level cat.  We have now added:

Crafty

Deceptive

Cunning

Otis, The Instigator.

No longer is anyone non-existent.  There is now complete awareness.
There is scratching on closed doors.  Day AND night. Paws under doors. Cats springing from every piece of furniture at any given moment. Cats lapping up breakfast shakes when a head is turned. Cats ALWAYS under foot. Otis has taken our peaceful existence and turned it on its ear.

Oh, how I long for a morning of sleeping in without an early paw in the nostril wake up. That said, I wouldn't trade it for the fun that is Otis. Oh-Ty. Oatey Oats. Oh Ty Taeo.  Otis, who brought to life a family of non-existent cats.

Otis keeping a paw on Miss Lily

Otis preparing a sneak attack on the Poods

Tiny Otis snugging with his best pal, Lily

Patio Dust Bath

Our little three week old Blue Laced Red Wyandotte chicks (Alma & Elsie) have discovered the joys of a dust bath at a very early age.

Here they are in a little patch of sand by the back patio having a good old time.

Renovations to Peck N Paw Resort & Spa

In the course of my life I have owned several homes and over the years I have learned one thing about home ownership:  after you've lived in it you will want to change it.

Last year (at about this time) we decided to start planning the building of our chicken coop.  We googled plans.  We You Tubed plans.  We drew out our own plans.  We had a plan and we built it.
We built it and they came.  The chickens moved in.

Peck N Paw 2012

The chickens have lived in and thrived and survived the hot, Florida summer.  They have survived hurricane "feeder-bands".  They have huddled together at night in the cold, coop windows closed for warmth.  Everyday they wake up happy and glad to be in their run.

In the course of the last year I have watched.  I know where they sit when its hot.  I know where they huddle when its cold.  I know they don't have the sense to get back in the coop when it rains, so they get wet.  I know its time for an expansion.

.....HONEY!  I HAVE AN IDEA!!!!...

We have begun our coop/run expansion.
While the coop itself if sufficient, the ladies need more space in the run.  Below are the progress shots...

Footings and Flooring

Framing

Painted Framing with back wall

View from the Front

This coming weekend we will be getting the sand flooring and blowing out the back wall.  I'm so excited to provide the ladies with a new, better protected run.

And now....the YouTube video...

'Chicken sitter' is now a job you can have in Portland, Oregon

Portland, OR is now one of my favorite cities!  Check out the article below on Chicken Sitting.

'Chicken sitter' is now a job you can have in Portland, Oregon