Someone else is laying...

I found a soft-shell egg, perfect in every other way, in one of the nest boxes.  The soft shell can mean one of two things:  a calcium deficiency or a newly laying hen.  Now, I provide plenty of calcium in the form of crushed oyster shells so I'm sure it's not that, but more likely one of the other ladies has begun to lay.  We shall see.

I caved and bought an electric water warmer base for their water.  In the name of not having a bunch of bloody beaks again this winter, and the fact that I'm working more and can't defrost the water, I think it was a good investment.  I'll report back.

Henrietta, the Golden Buff hen, has started to lay!  She is such a nice girl, and seems to be very attached to Comb, the Rhode Island Red rooster.  Her eggs are medium sized and delicious.  She has a pleasant demeanor and seems to get along very well with the chicks.  The most interesting thing is that since she’s the only one laying right now, I know she is laying in a different nesting box every time as I’m playing hide and go seek with her and the latest hen fruit.  I recently put a 30 pound capacity feeder in the coop and yesterday found that Henrietta had laid her egg on the top of it.  Nice.

The other Golden Buffs and the fifteen Black Rocks are getting big very fast.  These eating and p**ping machines are as entertaining as the flock of Reds.  When I am leaving for work each day, I must plan an extra few minutes to spend with them as they pile along the side of the run, dare I say, begging for a treat.  I always oblige with some bread,  apple cores, or whatever I have available.

The other night, we had another unfortunate experience.  I asked Lindsay to freshen the coop drinking water and on his way out to cutting wood he went to the coop to do just that.  Wallace, the very happy husky mix dog, was right alongside Lindsay – until he got to the coop.  Wallace pushed by Lindsay and grabbed a chicken and my poor girl met her maker.  I heard Lindsay loudly scolding someone or something, not knowing what had happened, so I hurriedly hobbled out the door; saw Wallace looking absolutely normal and Lindsay blocking the door to the coop.  You already know what happened.  The other chickens seemed stunned.  I never before saw all 20 of them stand still long enough so I could count them.  In an effort to calm the group, I got my best folding chair and a handful of breadcrumbs and sat in the coop with them, talking to them, soothing them, and they began sitting on my lap and eating.

Now that the weather has begun to turn colder I expected that Team Coyle would be spending most of its time in the coop, but I am very surprised, every morning, when the run door is opened and the chickens burst through it as if launched by an air gun.  Good for them!!  If Doug Heath’s chickens can come out in the winter, why can’t ours?

Chickens, 4

Since my last writing, I have lost my Dad to age, my flock of Rhode Island Reds to a bear (which visited twice while I was settling Dad’s affairs in Florida) and 3 of my 5 specially ordered Golden Buffs which did not survive the journey from the hatchery in Ohio to Landaff.  The ones from the hatchery were replaced for free and I ordered 15 Black Rocks to round out the brood.  So far, so good, as they lived in the brooder, then 2 brooders, for several weeks, but they grew so fast I had to move them out to the palace.  Comb, the Rhode Island Red rooster, still owns the coop and the 2 older Golden Buffs and he have adapted to the youngsters quite nicely. Of course, 1 of the Golden Buffs turned out to be a rooster, and a quite handsome guy at that.  He has learned his place, however, as Comb is quite dominant. The hen’s name is Henrietta, a nickname I had in college for reasons I choose not to discuss.

Putting the chicks out into the run as early as I did turned out to be a good move.  I won’t say smart as that would imply that some serious consideration would have been done but it was solely for the comfort of the chicks.  Overcrowding? Holy Mackeral!  One day I came home from work and tended to the water and food and one chick flew out.  Not having the physical prowess to climb over boxes and into corners, I just left her out and closed the door to the brooder room thinking I’d ask Lindsay to catch her and return her to the brooder when he got home.  Fortunately, Todd stopped over to pick up the fish tank (another story) and offered to catch the escapee.  He did, and thank you, Todd.   Once in with the older birds they adapted well, and now even spend the nights up on the lower roosts while the 3 older chickens are up in the rafters.  I have tried to spare Comb any more anxiety as the bear continued to visit for quite a while.  As soon as I come out of the house I begin singing to the chickens, an original song I call “The Chicken Song”.  They meet me at the top of the run or at the door of the palace and I toss them some bits of bread.  The chicks are like little kids – whoever grabs the bread is chased by all the other chicks, all peeping and running as fast as they can.  The older chickens seem amused, as am I. Shaw’s continues to offer organic produce at reduced prices and I pick some up each time I am there to offer everyone, augmenting their feed with some solid treats.

Henrietta has yet to offer me an egg, but I am not putting her under any pressure.  She has taken to approaching me each time I enter the run or the palace, reminding me of my dear Matilda.

I would be seriously remiss if I did not mention that Heidi took care of the terrible mess left by the bear during my absence while in Florida.  I don’t know how to repay her and Richard for all they did, don’t even know where to start.  I think free eggs for as long as they want them will be in order, as soon as the team starts to lay.

Chickens, 3

The outdoor waterer was moved and suspended within the
confines of the coop and a second pellet feeder got hung inside as well. My dear young chickens love their water, and
they love stepping in and spilling it almost as much as drinking it. With the weather getting colder, this was not
good as the wet wood shavings could harm their feet as well as being a superior
incubator for disease. Okay, how do I
outsmart a flock of chickens who love to perch on the waterer and spill it all
over? Off to Home Depot to buy 4 large
cinder blocks. My idea was to set the
blocks down and put the waterer on top.
It would be virtually impossible for them to tip it due to the weight of
the water. That problem is solved but when
the outdoor temperatures dropped significantly and the water started freezing
another challenge was presented. The
incandescent lamp didn’t throw enough heat to keep the water from freezing, so
still having the heat lamp used when they were young chicks, the solution
seemed obvious. The only issue was that
now I’m spending more money on electricity (the heat lamp is 250 watts!!) and I
thought this couldn’t be the only answer.
Ever see those gel filled first aid wraps? You can freeze them if you need to ice a
joint or heat it in the microwave to make a warm compress. I already had one of these so I figured it
was worth a try. Heat up the pack and
install in under the water supply, and put warm water in the waterer, I thought
it had to work for at least a few hours at a time. That it did, but I was away at work and
within a few hours the water iced over.
The thing is that chickens drink a lot of water, but not all at once,
allowing the icing over to occur. Then,
in their thirst, they’d peck their little beaks bloody at the ice trying to get
water. The requirements were defined: a water vessel not top heavy, but heavy
enough itself not to be so easily tipped.
The answer was an 8 X 8 pyrex baking dish. It didn’t hold much water and needed to be
filled several times per day but between using warm water and the heated gel
pack we got through the terribly cold weather.
I need to find another solution before next winter. On one of the blogs I read someone used an
aquarium heater to keep the water liquid.

We got through the winter with just one chicken “ buying the
farm”, as they say, and I have come to
realize that my chickens are very
spoiled. Other local farmers tell me
their chickens come out all winter long, and they do not supplement heat or light and
that’s that. I will live and learn and
perhaps I’ll do things a little differently next year.
I have ordered 6 Hubbard Golden Comet chicks from the local Agway and
will be welcoming them during the first week of May. I may get an additional 6 chicks, but have
plenty of time to decide that.
Life goes on. It
seems the chickens are taking a little rest as the egg output has dropped. It could be due to the fact that I’ve turned off the heat lamp in the coop as
the temperature in the daytime is in the 40’s.
One day it was 62 in there and I’m thinking yep, these ladies are coddled.

Spring is here and the ladies are bursting at the seams to
get out of the palace. After I was able
to get the door to the run open, I
SHOVELED a path to the chicken door in the run and opened the door. A few brave
girls ventured out to eat snow. I
shoveled off the 2 X 4 Tom put out there for them to stand on but still, few
takers. Mother Nature is going to have
to work her magic to get the rest of them out.
When I go out to freshen their food and water each day they are
literally falling out of the coop when I open the door. Of course, I call to them before I actually
open the door so they know it’s me and I’m coming with food. One little smart alec decided to escape the
coop and go underneath it. I can’t get
down that low – my knees won’t allow me to do it and get back up without
incredible pain so I had to let her take her chances until I found a solution,
which came in the form of a miniature dachshund named Mary. I went in the house to release the hounds and
after tethering Wallace, I let Mary run free.
She went directly to the chickens, as usual, and flushed out the escapee,
who loudly complained and threatened Mary with her outspread wings. I opened
the door to the coop and the wayward chicken went right in. HA!! I
win. Sorry, that sounds too much like
Charlie Sheen….I take it back. The
chicken was back in the house with her flock mates.

Chickens, 2

Off track for a bit, but this is important to me and the
path to my own flock. Here we are, new
flock of chicks, protected by barbed wire, infrared lasers and guard dogs. Chickens are quite social, I’ve found. They like to be hand-fed and be cuddled, I think. Matilda races to the open door when I come in
and roosts on my shoulder. I tagged her
right leg with a blue band so I know which one she is. So far, no chicken deposits on the shoulder
to report but I’m sure the odds are that it will happen. These animals eat everything. They are not vegetarians – they like bits of
meat, fat and even their own eggs. I had
read that feeding them egg shells helped with their calcium needs but what I
did not consider was that the taste of egg would entice them to eat their
own. Oh, and yes, they do that. We had a challenge with one of the Black
Rocks in that she’d lay her egg and then promptly turn around and eat it! We stepped up the timing for checking the
nests for eggs, even reaching under roosting hens to retrieve any eggs they may
have under them.

They continued to be eating
machines and we were going through 50 pound bags of layer feed every 10 days
(it is now every 7 days). This diet is
augmented with cracked corn, crushed oyster shell and produce from our garden
and grocery store’s marked down section.
I found they liked corn cobs and all kinds of bugs, especially dragon
flies. Having the pond right behind the
coop proved pretty handy as insects were plentiful.

My ladies did not start to lay until late August. I remember talking to Doug Heath about his
flock as they started to lay on Friday, August 13. I’d sit out in the run on a trash bag covered
lawn chair gently coercing them to give us eggs, but nature had to take its
course. Daughters Samantha, Virginia and
Victoria came up for a visit before the ladies started giving us eggs. All in all, I began to realize that for the
first time in my life I discovered my passion - raising these chickens. How lucky am I?

They “came into” the lay.
Every morning, noon and afternoon I eagerly made my way to the coop and
run to see if I could claim The Prizes.
Early in September I was getting about 10 eggs per day. I took pictures of the first eggs in the
nesting boxes, on the kitchen counter and in the frying pan, and, of course,
posted them on Facebook. I’d been
waiting for this for practically my whole life and if I said it didn’t bring
tears to my eyes I’d be lying.

With winter fast approaching my new concern was how the
chickens would fare in the cold weather.
Everything I had read said both breeds were hardy and could
withstand cold. Conversely, the bigger challenge to chickens
is heat. (Their normal body temperature is 103F and when outdoor temperatures
exceed 70 – 75F a fan might be needed to help circulate air inside the coop.) I
still went out each day and opened the run door to see if they would come out,
but by late October they were no longer very interested in the great
outdoors. They would come out, but did
not stay long. Chickens are sensitive
to the amount of light they are exposed to and in order to keep them laying I
had to provide an artificial source of light.
A 100 watt incandescent lamp was mounted in the rafters and that seemed
to do the trick. They were up to about a
dozen eggs each day. I just prayed
they’d keep it up.

Chicken story continued

Matilda had three weeks on the newcomers, but she did not
appear to exert any dominance over them, including Comb, the rooster. Have you ever heard of the phrase “pecking
order”? It’s a real experience for
chickens, as the most dominant of the flock will literally peck at the less
dominant members to retain rights to eating and drinking first. It sounds a little middle school teenaged
boy-ish thing to me but it is part of the chicken reality. The rooster, if the
flock has one, gets to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. So far he seems like a nice enough bird and
beautiful, at that, but I have been warned that if the rooster perceives you as
a predator he can attack you with his claws and hackles and serious injury can
occur – they go for your eyes. SO, whenever I go to the coop, I come bearing
gifts – a few slices of old bread, a cucumber, an apple – so my appearance
should be associated with goodies. Comb
began practice crowing. He sounded like
a teenaged boy coming into his adult voice. He now sounds like a rooster soundtrack.

Back when my children were little we lived in a very nice
neighborhood which abutted some nice older homes. Our neighborhood was governed by a
Restrictive Covenant which meant, among other things, I could not have poultry,
but our neighbor on the other street had chickens, geese and other assorted
animals, including a rooster who crowed all day. Some of our neighbors were unhappy that these
creatures were allowed, even outside our neighborhood, but a random experience
allowed me to expose my children to the life I’d known before Foxborough. One rainy Saturday morning I noticed what
appeared to be a White hen roosting in my next door neighbor’s cellar
window. I knew very well that these
folks did not have poultry so I called over to ask if they knew anything about
this bird. They did not. After several more calls I found this poor
little hen belonged to our neighbor on the next street. She came over, claimed her hen with my two
youngest children there, and invited us to come over to meet her animals. Oh boy, did we go!! Mrs. White was more than happy to share her
knowledge of the birds and even sent us home with huge goose eggs. She had family to tend to out of the area and
invited my children to mind her chickens and geese when she was away. The girls loved taking care of them and
collecting eggs and took quite a shine to the chickens. Ginny and Vicky would visit Mrs. White on a
regular basis and I thank her in my heart for being such a positive influence
on them.

It wasn’t all sweetness and light, however, and one night a
weasel got into the coop. They have a
distinctive way of killing their prey – evisceration. My girls were not so young and tender as to
be unable to understand this. Mrs. White
waited a good, long while before getting any more chickens but my girls had
learned lessons that few of their peers had.
I owe Mrs. White for befriending my daughters and teaching them things I
could not. It does take a village to
raise a child.

T minus 25 days until Chickens!!!

May 7, Agway in North Haverhill. 12 Rhode Island Red pullets arrive.