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.

Meet The Ladies

It seems I have been remiss in properly introducing the ladies of our lives.  For that I apologize.

The Buffs are now at week 21 and we are hoping for eggs in the very near future but we shall see.  Though I try for the "no pressure" approach, I am trying to encourage through opening up the nesting boxes and "hinting" with a few faux plastic eggs.

The 21 week old Buff Orpintons.
Fran, Marie and Felicia

Bard Rock Betty (18 weeks) enjoying some yogurt while Lois and Marie wait for a peck.

Delores fanning her tail feathers. 

Marie LOVES her yogurt snack

Delores and Lois interrupted from bug hunting.  They are now 19 weeks.

Betty enjoying the garden

Marie has really grown into that lovely comb

Everyday these ladies surprise and delight me.

Week 21 - Our First Cluck

It happened tonight.  

My precious little buff orpington, Marie, clucked!!!

It was a real cluck!  She meant it! 

It IS the little things...

Miss Marie.  First to cluck

And POOF they were chickens

My first batch of chicks came home at the beginning of April.  Easter weekend.  My Easter Peeps were cute and yellow and fluffy. Three weeks later their siblings arrived.  They were cute and black and fluffy with little yellow butts.

Over the months we have had our brood of chicks we have watched them grow.  The early days were lightening fast.  Every morning's peek into the incubator brought a new size chick.  Sometimes it seemed in the blink of an eye they grew.

As of late, the chicks (now teenage chickens) have been in a holding pattern.  Day after day I greet them each morning and free range them each night and I see no change.  The Buffs are the Buffs, the Dominques remain demure and Betty the Bard Rock is unchanged.  Would they EVER get big?  Would they EVER become chickens?

A few weeks ago my husband and I went on a long awaited pilgrimage/vacation to where I was born.  A long weekend to celebrate his birthday, my class reunion, a family reunion and our first wedding anniversary.  Apparently, when you jam-pack that much into a four day weekend the chickens decide to pack on the pounds.

We left on a Thursday.  I told the ladies to be good...  I told our teenager he was on high alert as Chicken Guardian.

We returned on a Monday night.  We returned to CHICKENS.  In the span of just five days my chickens went on an eating/growing frenzy!  Thank goodness for the color coded ankle bracelets we gave the ladies the week before or I would not have known my girls.  They were bigger.  They were taller.  And just as anxious to be set free and free range.

They each have their little combs.  Their tail feathers are a bit bigger.  They stand a bit more proud.  My girls are growing up nicely and, while I miss their little peeps, I love what they have become.

Fran & Marie on the patio

Eat Your Vegetables!

While researching the art of raising happy, healthy, content chickens I learned it best to keep treats near by in the event you need to move the ladies swiftly into their coop or out of harms way.  (Or, if you just want the buggers to come to you like you are the Pied Piper) And for or me, the word treat conjures up images of unhealthy but oh so good tasting morsels of food.  For chickens the treats need to be healthy but what would they consider a treat?

Research suggested the trial and error method in finding out a particular flock or individual chicken might like.     What would be a good chicken treat?  Bugs?  Highly unlikely that I will be toting and handful of beetles or the ever popular meal worms in my pocket. We start with strawberries.  Ladies loved 'em but they were messy and seemed like a pricey treat on a daily basis.  Strawberries would become Special Event treats.  Cantaloupe came next.  Another chicken favorite but again, a messy treat to carry in one's pocket.  Cantaloupe becomes the frozen treat hung in the run on hot, muggy days.

Day after day there is more trial and more error in our hunt for the perfect treat.  More and more I'm beginning to feel like I have a picky flock toddlers who refuse to eat their strained peas.  (No, I did not actually try strained peas on my flock.)

Research suggested the vegetable category.  Most popular on the lists we found:  corn, broccoli, carrots and cabbage.  And so we try bits of cabbage, raw and cooked.  Nope.  Broccoli got the same reaction, a resounding NO.  Carrots, NO.  Finally corn. Who doesn't love corn?  Apparently, my chickens do not.

I begin to think I may have to carry meal worms in my pocket.  An idea that falls significantly low on the appeal list.  Then, one afternoon while the ladies are out free-ranging, I take a peak in the fridge in hopes of something they might like.  The only untried item left is a sad, slightly wilted looking head of cauliflower just past its prime for human dinner.  With nothing to lose at this point I rip off a section of the cauliflower and march out to the happy little ladies.  I clap and call to the girls in my usual manor and eventually one or two head in my directions to see whats up.  I sit in the grass and offer up the white wilty vegetable chunk.  There is a peck and a squawk.  Then another peck and another.  Suddenly the alert has been sounded and I am surrounded by all six ladies madly pecking and flinging cauliflower in all directions.  Its like I've come bearing a tray of cotton candy to little tykes.

We have found it.  Of all things the ladies love cauliflower.  In the weeks since cauliflower has become my calling card.  I don't leave through the back door without it and the ladies know it.  All it takes is a clap and the call for my "ladies" and they come running to me like I am the mother ship.

Zen and the Mood Altering Chickens

Since day one with my little peeps (now three months old) I have touted their Zen nature and their ability to work like tiny, fluffy Xanax on my occassionally stressed out soul.  All it takes after a difficult or long, tiring day is to sit in the yard and watch my ladies free range.  They peck and scratch and find little bugs and bits of flower to eat.  They fly through the air with awkward, adorable delight. They coo and peep and most recently decided to cluck. And, after enough free range time, they occasionally come sit on my lap.  

It is well know that I have zero patience to just sit.

With my ladies around me it is easy to just sit and RELAX.

My inner circle is well aware of my Zen Chicken Philosophy.  They hear it on a regular basis.  I can't help but mention my awe at the calming affects my chickens have on my psyche. My husband hears on an almost daily basis my love for my chickens and the happiness they bring.

Until this last week my "Zen Chicken Philosophy research" had revolved only around minor stresses of everyday life and the chickens came through every time.  Until this last week my chickens "job" of keeping me stress free had been a piece of cake.  A job they could do in their sleep, and a job they sometimes did in their sleep.  (Yes, I have watched my chickens sleep and darn it, they are cute)

This last week was a bad week.  BAD.  

In the course of three days:

• I helplessly watched a tiny kitten be mauled by a vicious dog.  My efforts to save the kitten were unsuccessful and she died in my arms.  
• A dear friend died unexpectedly.  
• And my precious 16yr old Border Collie succumb to heart failure.  

It was a bad week.

Finally, the end of the week arrived and my dear, sweet husband picked me up from work and took me out for drinks to a favorite spot.  We stayed for one and headed home.  As much as I wanted to be, I was not in the mood to be "out on the town".

We arrived home.  I jumped into a pair of shorts and headed out to the ladies.  As I opened the door to their run and set them free to range I made comment to the fact the ladies had their work cut out for them.  I wasn't sure even my Zen chickens could puncture the dark cloud of sadness.  I needed a double dose of "Chicken Xanax".

My ladies did not fail me.  Their flapping, clucking, scratching and general silliness warmed my heart. I don't believe for a second they fixed the problems of the week but they did make my heart lighter and happier.  They let me remember that its not all bad and you still have to smile.

They ARE Zen.  

They ARE mood altering chickens.  

Each and every one.

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.