Something New Everyday

Finn's new hobby

At four weeks old the chicks were released from the inner compound during the day and now they confidently range throughout the outer enclosure, at first watched over by Clucky and now largely on their own. Clucky has gone back to roosting with the adults in the past week, abandoning the nestbox to the chicks. Initially there were a few conflicts and open battles with the other hens, notably Zen, but Clucky prevailed. I wasn’t sure how Finn would treat the chicks, but he has been a good dad, accepting them into his flock with good humor. He even joined Clucky in battle against Zen, subduing her and helping to chase her off, and now all is peaceful. It’s gone well enough that this weekend I plan to remove the partition inside the coop and let young and old mix.

Hazel

Dandelion

Holly

Blackberry

Silver

Acorn

After a few days in the brooder, Buckthorn’s wounds healed, but he still seemed droopy and subdued. Instead of bringing another chick in with him to keep him company, I thought to put him in the dog crate out in the outer enclosure during the day so he wouldn’t be so isolated. This worked for about 10 minutes until he discovered the big opening I had missed in front of the crate and walked right out. I wasn’t going to be able to catch him easily and this was in the late afternoon, so I hazed him over to join the others. He blended in unnoticed so I decided to leave him with them unless they started picking at him again. He’s still out there, and although he still does not have his siblings size or energy, he seems to be accepted and definitely happier out of the brooder.

Meanwhile, at the beginning of last week, Flicka went broody. I’m still stressing out over having so many new chicks so I’ve decided to break her if I can. I spent last week booting her off her nest and taking her eggs to no avail. I thought a weekend by herself in the spa might do the trick so last Saturday I set set her up out there. She seemed more or less OK with it but Finn immediately started fussing, calling her and pacing the fence. Before I knew it, he flew out of the enclosure and went marching over to her. I gave up, brought her back, with Finn accompanying us, and put them both back in. I’m not sure yet what Plan B will be.

Having gotten that small taste of freedom, yesterday Finn flew out again and this time tried to call the hens over with him. They weren’t about to get near the fence and I don’t think they comprehended that they could fly over if they chose. So they gathered around inside while he called from outside. I got him back in by waiting until almost dusk, opening up the fence and dumping a bunch of scratch (read candy) just inside. The girls jumped on it and Finn marched right back in. It’s just as well I ordered additional fencing to enlarge their area, and Saturday when I install it all the adults will spend the day in the spa. When I get my hands on Finn I’ll clip his wing and hope for the best, but it may just be a matter of time before something gets him, especially if he ends up roosting in trees instead of returning to the coop every night.

Growing Pains

One afternoon not so long ago I gazed out at my chickens happily roaming their enclosure and I felt that I had got it right. No aggression, the grass, if not thriving at least surviving in the outer run, no one pacing the perimeter looking for greener pastures. Ahhh.......

Then Clucky went broody and I figured having a hen raise a couple of chicks wouldn’t be that hard. And now my numbers have doubled (although luckily Zen has broken and Rachel decided it wasn’t a good idea anyway, so hopefully we’re done for the year). To accommodate this, and other eventualities, I ordered two small A-frame coops and another strand of electric fence. All the components are here, but lots of work will be required to get it all set up, and honestly, just getting the spa together has taken all summer (and while now workable, it has yet to be completed). My vision is to add the fence to the existing one to double the enclosure space during the summers and remove it in the winter (when the chickens are more coop-bound anyway) to allow access to the propane tank. I have one A-frame set next to the main coop and the dog kennel will be attached to it next to, but separate from, the inner compound. This will be for broody hens and birds that are part of the flock but need to be kept separate. The other A-frame is in the back corner of the yard, and this will be used with the spa whenever I have an ill or quarantined bird. Meanwhile, the spa can be used for its intended purpose which is to move around the yard and provide greens and a diversion for whomever I put in there.

Last Saturday morning I was out in the run with the babies and noticed that Buckthorn, one of the little Barnevelders, looked slightly droopy. All the others were running around, but he was sleeping. After a bit, he came to and ran to the others, so I stopped worrying. The next afternoon, we arrived home to find him suffering from bloody diarrhea and his neck pecked bare by his siblings. I put him in the brooder on the porch and treated his wounds with Blu-Kote (it is and it does--I still have it on my hands), and his coccidiosis with medicated chick starter and neomycin in his water. He seemed pretty miserable after the Koting (which must really sting), and I worried that he might not make it through the night. He survived but he hasn’t exactly bounced back. He seems less ill though so I slipped him under Clucky with the rest of the chicks last night, and all are spending the day in the spa. He isn’t being overtly picked on (he’s still pretty blue), but he stands out from the rest as being mopey. He’ll be going back into the brooder tonight.

The rest of the kids are enjoying their vacation from the desert of dirt and wood shavings that is the inner compound. None of them are tame--Clucky’s been a good mom and I have been too busy these last couple of weeks to spend any time with them. I also had to spend the first few weeks wrangling them back inside the coop every night, first when Clucky decided to have them all sleep outside with her, and then later when she started going into the coop for the night with some of the chicks leaving the rest, unable to comprehend the ramp, to scream outside. Now they can all negotiate the ramp, but I’m viewed as big trouble! It was quite the rodeo this morning trying to get them into the spa.

They’ve all been named and now since Bucky’s misfortune I can also tell them all apart! Gender is still a mystery, although I feel Hazel here is definitely a boy. He’s a hulk, noticeably bigger and heavier than the rest and he stands very upright. He had the gall to bite me a few days ago when I was wrangling him inside for the night. He’s one of the Wyandottes--not the blue-laced red that I ordered, but a gold-laced. Blue does not breed true, and two blue-laced parents will produce 50% blue-laced, 25% gold-laced (the lacing is black), and 25% splash (mostly white)-laced which is what I think Dandelion is. If Hazel and Dandelion end up being male and female, I could breed them together and end up with all blue-laced--a consideration for later! Dandelion was initially the runt of the group, but just in my short time with them this morning, has shown himself to be the most fearless of the bunch--at least of me. He was happy to approach me more closely than the rest even though I came without treats.

The two lavender Orpingtons are very similar except in size. Silver’s the bigger of the two and Blackberry’s the smaller one with the puff of a tail. Silver’s showing the most interest in pecking at Bucky’s neck, but not really in an aggressive way.

Acorn is the other Barnevelder. She seems shy and quiet. The breed is known for docility and if either one of these two end up being roosters, he would be the one I would consider keeping as a back-up for Finn (or a replacement if Finn continues on his feisty trajectory).

Holly is a speckled Sussex, the offspring of Finn and Rachel. He was from one of the two “safety eggs” I set under Clucky just to make sure something would hatch if the other eggs didn’t survive the transport. Shows what I know--the other Sussex egg didn’t hatch! Already outgoing like his parents, Holly is very fast. He was the last one I was able to round up this morning. If he ends up being a she, I’ve promised her to Nancy who only ended up with two Sussex pullets out of six from our original order, and has recently lost one of these.

So I’m feeling stressed, but all is basically well. I’m not happy about having to maintain three separate groups of chickens, but I’m working out the logistics. Once all the enclosures have been finished, it will go more smoothly.

The First Death--Warning! Disturbing story

Ever since I started with the chickens last fall, I have been expecting that one of them would die at some point. From the first, when I had the chicks shipped in the late fall, and throughout the cold, relentless winter I worried that they would succumb to the weather, but they never seemed to be too bothered. I only found out about Marek’s disease after it was too late to vaccinate, and I have worried about that ever since but so far they have been fine. I was prepared for Clucky to have an unsuccessful hatch or to lose a couple of chicks while we both got the hang of things, but they’re all doing well. I worried from the beginning about predation, but aside from the neighbor’s dogs, and the odd whiff of skunk, I have seen neither critter nor raptor. The only casualties so far have been Clucky’s two unhatched eggs.

I’m a soft heart when it comes to animals, and I try to provide well for my pets. A few years ago when my aging cats were all ill, it was an unusual week when I wasn’t at the vet’s for something. My remaining cat gets hypoallergenic food and allergy shots. I do poison the mice in the attic, but if the cat finds one alive I release it back outside. I went over the top with the chickens, thinking of them as pets, and trying to come up with a plan that would allow them to have a nice safe coop and run with some space without impacting the habitat that my property has become too much. I’ve been spending the weeks since Clucky and Zen went broody obsessing over the logistics of keeping two broods of young chicks in the facilities that I have.

We’ve sweated the details--we insulated the coop against cold and heat, strung flagging up to deter hawks, and installed the electric fence to keep chickens in and critters out. I stopped feeding my wild birds when the chickens moved outside because I didn’t want to attract hungry critters. I bought an axe for eventual chicken euthanasia (because I’m not planning on bringing a chicken in to my small animal vet to be put to sleep). I know the fence can be a hazard, and I’m keeping Clucky’s chicks in the inner compound until they are too big to be inclined to try to get through it. I’ve seen it work correctly when it shocked a dog last February and sent it running off. I’ve seen the chickens get zapped occasionally too, and they respect it without appearing to fear it, leaving a foot-wide belt of grass untouched along it. But I was not prepared for what actually happened.

I went out Saturday evening to close up the coop and heard the fence snapping in the back corner. It does this when weeds or grass contact it, so I didn’t think much of it, but when I was done with the chickens I went back to investigate thinking a fallen branch was leaning against it or something. What I found was a dead adult opossum entangled in the fence. He had gotten inside the fence somehow (possibly by going under it since the bottom strand contacts the ground and is not electrified). He got trapped on his way out, getting his head through one of the lowest openings and then not being able to continue out or to pull back. He was dead, but there were signs of struggle, and he was caught so tightly behind his jaws that if I had been alone, I would have had to cut the fence to get him out. As it was, Steve worked him out and left him in the ravine for my resident vultures. What a terrible death. I only hope it was fast. It happened during the afternoon sometime; we were inside with the windows open and heard nothing from the possum or the chickens. I told Steve I would have felt better if he had gotten in, killed a chicken, and gotten out again. At least then it would have been clean.