Everybunny’s Doing Swell

I took a minor trip, to break away from the animals. No, not the farm animals, my own hatchlings, aged 11-17. The farm animals have nothing on the animals that live beneath my roof. From the smells to the yells, I just had to fly the coop for a few days, if only to regain perspective.

looking into the great unknown

looking into the great unknown

I can’t say that I was gone long enough to get anywhere with perspective, but at least I got to see other members of my family who make me feel sane. I was also blessed to be able to visit with my life long best friend, and meet her precious baby. Yes, it was a fabulous get-a-way, but I have to admit, I missed the animals.

I found myself talking chicken with anyone who would listen. This is obviously an epidemic, this chicken raising scheme. The chickens have a master plan to rule the world, and I am obviously just a pawn in their grand plan. Okay, maybe I give the flocks a little too much credit. But there’s power in numbers. And chickens practice voodoo…I know they do!

Look into my eyes...

Look into my eyes…

While I was away, the bunnies and hatchlings continued to grow. I am amazed what can happen in a few days time, growth wise. The kits are so active now, and will come right to you, as you open their hutch. They have needle-sharp claws, which they use to climb up your sleeve, if you’ll let them. I’m mesmerized by their cuteness. I try not to think about their actual purpose, because it’s such a joy to play with my food.

Huey, Dewey & Louie

Huey, Dewey & Louie

SuperMama and her Super Babies!

SuperMama and her Super Babies!

My husband came home last week with an interesting chicken horror tale.

His father and mother began raising chickens four or five years ago. At last count, they had a small flock of 16. The morning after the big freeze, my father in law went out to their coop to check on his flock. What he found both startled and disturbed him. Right in the middle of the coop, were all 16 chickens, laying dead in a pile.

Later that evening, he went back out, to clean up the sad loss, and the chickens had all neatly been moved to the corner of the coop. Still dead. (For some reason, as Mike told the story, at this point, I half expected the chickens to be alive and well when my father in law went back the second time. Sadly, I was wrong.) As he bagged each chicken, he noted that they did not seem scathed at all. That is until he came to the bottom of the pile, and there was a headless chicken awaiting him.

They live in south Texas, about 45 minutes north of the coast. Even though through research, I found that ringtail cats aren’t generally prevalent in that area, it is what his friend and he surmised to be the predator at large. His friend informed him that ringtail cats kill for sport, not unlike humans, and that the way he described finding the chickens, lined up with the nature of the ringtail.

What a horrible way to learn about a predator. We live about 3 hours north of them, and we definitely have a mess of predators to deal with here. In November, Dad shot a possum that was perched behind our chicken cages. Luckily, he did not get one of our chickens before his surprising end. We have hawks and a bobcat that lives right across the dry creek bed from us. We constantly keep the cages clean and food and water fresh, to deter unwanted pests and predators from sniffing their way to easy pickin’s.

While I was gone, the inevitable happened. Dad whipped out the incubator. But another thing that happened is that further construction took place on the future chicken “megaplex” that the boys are working up for our ever-growing feathered crowd. Too many generations are crowding the one tiny coop we have, which leads to laying boxes that resemble port-a-potties, and odd roosting situations, and unnecessary fights. Luckily, with our still-thriving winter garden, we are able to supplement with greens and nice scraps, to keep their health up in the more stressful environment. Just like us, they don’t do crowds well for long.

here we go again

here we go again

So I’ll leave you today with a few pictures of our roosters. With Mr. M hanging in a cage, the other roosters are finding their pecking orders have slid up a notch. So enjoy our farm studs and have a lovely day in the Son.

Chief Rainbow, Precious and widower Mrs. D

Chief Rainbow, Precious and widower Mrs. D

I think Mr. White might be racist...here he is with his harem which includes Lavender the white guinea, and Super Girl, the red-headed flying beaut.  She's only with him until her man is released from the infirmary.

I think Mr. White might be racist…here he is with his harem which includes Lavender the white guinea, and Super Girl, the red-headed flying beaut. She’s only with him until her man is released from the infirmary.

Leonerdo and the ever-social Lavender (who believes herself to be a white chicken)

Leonerdo and the ever-social Lavender (who believes herself to be a white chicken)

Mr. Kellogg Wellsummer

Mr. Kellogg Wellsummer

As you can see, it’s hard to sleep in, around here.

Until next time, this is the Crazy Chicken Lady, signing OFF!

Vaya con Dios

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Frosty Mornin’ To Ya

The robins are going berserk this morning, trying to keep warm.  Our country is currently being slammed by what the meteorologist folks are calling a “Polar Vortex”.  The tag just makes you feel all warm and cozy inside, doesn’t it?!  Global warming at it’s finest, lemme tell ya!  Robins migrate to Texas in the winter, because we are generally a two season location, hot and hotter!

Okay, occasionally a few cool days slip past the border, but normally, Texas winters are pleasant and mild.

The cold doesn’t affect me the same way it does most of the populous, because I wake up radiating heat.  The cool air is most welcome, at least first thing in the morning…as the day carries on, I know the chill will set into my bones.  I probably should take care of the chickens before that occurs!
Owning chickens is not for the weak.  They require much care to remain healthy, fertile and happy.  Because caged chickens have a tendency to defecate in their food and water, you have to stay on top of keeping the food and water containers clean and fresh.  You also have to keep their trays clean.  (Rabbits too…have I even mentioned the rabbits?  Probably not, but I love them and this goes for them as well!)

We have five rabbits, 2 bucks and 3 does

We have five rabbits, 2 bucks and 3 does

But back to the chickens.  Although, I could carry on about this fat lil’ male cardinal who is perched on a branch outside my window…so cute.  And yes, I may or may not have ADHD, but I roll with it.

When working with the chickens, I have learned a thing or two.  They like it when I sing to them.  Not every day is a happy singing day though, as you know, and on those days that a song does not depart from my lips, I talk with them.  The chickens and rabbits each have different personalities.  There are sweet ones, mean ones, goofy ones, and everything in between.  As for the quail, well, they remind me of the aliens from Toy Story.  I cannot differentiate between any of them and they all act and sound the same.  The rooster-quail’s crow is something else!

This past Saturday, I mentioned in my previous blog, that my dad and my youngest son went to show their chickens and eggs at the local annual Poultry Show.  Well, I am happy to report that they raked in the rewards for all their hard work.  1st place in Bantam egg content, 2nd place in Standard egg content, 2nd and 3rd place in best egg trio, 1st place for our Dominiques…you may know them from the unlucky story of Lucky…killers!!  They proved the ol’ saying “the bad guys always win!”

Mr. M was disqualified because Dad was misinformed of his breed…instead of a copper maran, he turned out to be a blue-copper maran!  By just one word missing, he was eliminated from the competition.  He would’ve received 1st as well, as he was the only blue-copper maran in the building…picky picky!!

Mr. M, our blue-copper maran

Mr. M, our blue-copper maran

My little Mamas and Papas received 2nd, Dad reported, but their ribbon was M.I.A.!  Mr, White, whom I have yet to introduce, also placed 1st, but his ribbon was M.I.A. as well…something about a missing judge and his portion of missing ribbons.

Some chicken people can be sneaky!  Someone also took off with a shirt my dad won in a raffle, as a man claimed to be my dad!  Last year that same man is probably the one who made off with Dad’s chicken coop he won.  Sneaky, crafty, snake!  My first chicken love, Leonerdo, won 3rd in his division.  They also won $100 in gift certificates and cards, and won 2 bags of feed and 2 bags of chicken treats.  Made out like real bandits, they did.

He did well for his first show...and on his 11th birthday no less.

He did well for his first show…and on his 11th birthday no less.

My son truly enjoyed his first experience showing chickens.  However, last night, he did confide in me that there were a few boys there that were chiding him and being really ugly towards him.  But thus is life, and I told him they were just jealous of him because he had the coolest chickens and grandpa in the building.  He always amazes me with how he handles things so well.  Sometimes I wonder if he was switched at birth, haha, because he handles things way better than his dad and I do, most days.

My lil' rooster with Leonerdo the third place winner

My lil’ rooster with Leonerdo the third place winner

Watching him handle the chickens with grace and assurance is astounding.  He was definitely made for working with animals.  I was made to learn that I could if I just gave it a shot.  Not something I ever thought I would actually do or enjoy doing though.  But chickens grow on you, with their daffy ways, sounds and personality traits.  Even ol’ Mrs. Dominique has garnered my love for her, though I know she was the one who hurt Lucky so badly…well, she and her husband.  I may name them Bonnie and Clyde.

Naming chickens just happens.  Normally, they are not named right away, as they must grow a little and show their personalities, but some chicks are pegged from day one, such as our newest incubated hatchlings.  We have a lil’ black chick with a white stripe on his head and he is an aggressive lil’ bully, so he got named Stripe, after the Gremlin.  But it was only yesterday that I gave a name to one of our female rabbits.  It was as if she told me herself, as I was getting her water set back into place.  Daphne is such a sweet and interactive lil’ lady, and she can put the drink away like nobody can!

Chickadee, Chickadoo

Chickadee, Chickadoo

Well, it’s time for me to put the laptop away for the day.  It’s time to start school with my youngest two and we still have those chickens to take care of as well.  So, may your day be blessed and your body and soul be warmed by the Sonlight!

Until next time, this is the Chicken Lady, signing OUT.

Vaya con Dios