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.

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

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...

Backyard Chicken Workshop Update

Its official!  A date has been set for the first Backyard Chicken Workshop!

On Sunday, February 24, the Hiers Hen House will be hosting a workshop to raise awareness and provide insight in to raising happy, healthy, productive backyard hens.

The worshop is sponsored by Sow Share, a collective self-reliance program for South Florida Residence.  If you are interested in attending the workshop, please contact  SowShare for more details or visit SowShare on their Facebook page.

We would LOVE to see you there!

Scrambled Eggs with Crunchy topping

Back to Basics

While I love the holidays and truly love the time spent with my adorable mother, fabulous sister and scads of comical and charming cousins, I am glad to be back to routine.  For the last several weeks it has been a frenzy of packing, traveling, un-packing, more travel, hugs, kisses, goodbyes, hellos and work sprinkled in.

During the time I was away, I know the ladies were well cared for by my adoring husband.  He loves to free range the ladies as much (if not more) than I.  And while I know they were out and about on a regular basis, is was not with me.  Their routine may have not changed but mine did and I was ready to have it back.

Today, for the first time in weeks, the ladies and I had an entire afternoon to free range and I had the opportunity to really get back into routine.  The run was cleaned and raked.  The water and food cleaned and changed.  The coop scrubbed and cleaned, all with the help of Lois (the watch chicken).  Lois is the supreme supervisor when it comes to my cleaning abilities.  Rarely does a coop clean go by without Lois on the high roost keeping a watchful eye.

There is just something about walking about the yard with hens under foot, cooing and pecking and making us smile and laugh.

Breakfast on the Patio

After a lovely rain the ladies took their yogurt breakfast on the patio.  Love their little yogurt coated beaks.  Who knew this would be such a treat.
Staring:  Fran, Felicia and Marie.  Additional appearances by Lois (yellow tag) and Delores (Blue tag)

Natura's Chicken Coop with a View - Other Animals (Google Affiliate Ad)

The Pecking Order Or When Doves Cry

Since childhood I think I have understood the very basics of the Pecking Order.  It seems pretty self-explanatory.  Pecking is involved which, in turn, creates some time of order.  At least this is what I believe my 7 yr old self would have agreed to.  Now in my 40's, I'm still pretty sure that holds true.

As baby chicks there doesn't seems to be any pecking order.  As baby chicks they barely knew how to peck, let alone take that skill out on a sibling for a more advanced status in the flock.  In the first few weeks it seemed everyone was on the same level playing field.

Time marched on for the chicks and in the process a new sense of self for each of my feathered babies.  While there still was no "pecking" order among the Buff's, there did seem to be a hierarchy of sorts.  Felicia was the brave chicken willing to explore.  Fran and Marie would follow never straying from the flock.

At three weeks of age we upset the delicate chick balance and bring in two day old Dominiques, Lois and Deolores.  At week four, in comes two day old Bard Rock Betty.  This is where we see the beginning of a Pecking Order or just plain sibling rivalry.  Either way, the Buffs were quite content tormenting their younger peeps, forcing the "newbies" to take up residence in their own customized incubator.  (And yes, each group was housed in my home office for six weeks while their coop was being constructed)

Once all six ladies made their move into the outside world there was a bit of scuffling and posing for their place in the flock.  There was chasing and posturing.  Squawking and flapping.  It was all pretty short lived.  We breathed a sigh of relief and wrongly assumed it was over. 

Here we are at weeks 21, 18 & 17.

The apple cart has turned over yet again and we are establishing yet a New Order.    Big no longer means best.  Our quiet little buff, Marie has taken charge.

Marie has established her voice.  Literally.  She clucks.  She clucks and she means it and if you are in the flock you darn well better listen.  She clucks.  She flaps her wings.  She half runs, half flies to let everyone know who is boss.  Everyone, including the neighborhood doves who occasionally stop by at the feeder.  Heaven forbid they land in the grass or they get a piece of Marie's mind and the flailing, flapping spectacle we have come to love.

Marie, top dog

So Marie is on top for now.  Felicia and Fran fall next in the pecking line.  Surprisingly, the youngest, Betty is in that center mix.  She doesn't challenge but she is not afraid to muscle in during treat time and get her share of the goods.  At the bottom of the chicken pile are the sweet little Lois and Dolores.  Neither girl is willing to get in anyone's way or fight for a treat.  They wait their turn in the back, hoping for an opening.  I always make sure they get in.  No chicken left behind.

On a side note, last night, after the treats had been doled out and the ladies went about their pecking and bug excavating, Dolores came over to me.  bottom of the pecking order, Dolores.  She let me pick her up and she sat on my lap.  She just sat.  There is something about the underdog.  The underchicken.  My heart melted.

Key West Coop DeVille, a true LABOR of love

Bringing baby chicks into our home and building them their own place has been a labor of love.  Did I mention LABOR of love.  Lots and lots of labor and they better love it!

Somewhere a long the way I convinced my adoring husband that we needed chickens.  We needed little baby chickens that we could nurture and love and watch grow into stunning hens who would, without question and lovingly, provide us with breakfast (eggs).

Now, if you are going to have chickens you are going to have to have a coop.  Sounds easy enough.  If I want something unusual or out of the ordinary I do the expected.  I GOOGLE it.  And I did.  I GOOGLED coop after coop after coop.  Coops on wheels, ready made coops, easy to assemble coops, large coops, small coops, plastic coops, nuclear Holocaust-Safe coops.  I saw it all.

Somewhere a long the way my adoring husband convinced me that we needed to build our own coop.  We could build it cheaper and bigger and exactly the way we want it, he said.

Our efforts have created Key West Coop DeVille.  Watch as it all comes together.