(Belated) Madcap Monday: Chicken spring fever

"Psst, Frank... it's March Break. How 'bout a road trip?"

Frank, aka The Boss *

Tommy, aka Frank's lackey *

"Run for it!"

"You get the keys, I call shotgun!"

"Hey lady, give us the keys!"

"Frank, no dice on the keys!"

"What now?"

"Don't look at me. I've been here the whole time..."

* Yes, both brutes lost part of their combs to frostbite.

Madcap Monday: You know it's cold when...

... an egg freezes in the coop!

 Ed note: No chickens were harmed in the making of this blog post.

Chick shopping

The hens are getting a bit long in the tooth, or should I say beak. Our first chickens (of which we still have a few) were some one- and two-year old birds that we bought in the fall of 2008 from a woman who was downsizing. We then ordered about two dozen (maybe more) day-old chicks the following spring.


Since then, due to natural and not-so-natural losses (we had a LOT of fox trouble this year, which I wanted to address before adding any more birds to our farm), we're down to 15 hens and one rooster.

These ladies are eating as much as always, but are providing one, maybe two eggs a day between all of them, and that's after a three week dry spell. (I can just imagine it: "You lay the egg today, Betty -- it's your turn." "Actually, Mrs. Peck-Peck, I laid the egg on Thursday - it's your turn." Only on our farm.)

And yes I know it's cold and dark out, but they've never had such a drop in production -- I think they're just at that life stage.

I love my chickens, but they've got to pay their way around here. It's time to bring in some new layers. It's chick ordering time.


While I previously bought my chicks through the local farm co-op, which in turn source the day olds from a hatchery in southwestern Ontario, I wanted to find a local supplier. And while I was happy with the breeds that we've been tending -- Plymouth Rock, Rhode Island Reds, Columbian Rock x Reds and Black Sex Links -- I wanted to diversify into some heritage breeds.

Then I heard about a hatchery less than two hours south of our farm (ed. note: Performance Poultry, in Prince Edward County); one that offers heritage breeds, plus many of the fancy birds that we see at the county fair poultry shows, plus quail and guinea fowl and the wee sweet bantams.

As I was looking through their online catalogue I could feel the tug of all these beautiful birds -- wouldn't they look gorgeous scratching around the barnyard? Then I snapped back to reality and reminded myself that I'm looking for good layers with nice temperments and hardy dispositions. Not pretty fox treats.

I'm kidding about the fox treats. Not the nice temperments.

So while I was taking a quick (ok, not so quick) tea break today, I started making my chick shopping list (without yet seeing the price list, mind you. So this may change very quickly.)

So far I'm considering:
• 4 Wynadottes
• 4 Orpington
• 4 New Hampshire Reds
• 4 Black Australops (hmmm, I told Lucas I was only ordering 12 (or so) chicks this year as we're not actively selling eggs this season.)

I'd also like to try raising some meat birds. I've been vegetarian for over 15 years, but my family eats meat and I want them to be eating animals that have been raised with the utmost respect, love and care, from start to finish. More on this line of thinking later.

This hatchery offers the White Rock x broiler, as well as a Red Broiler meat bird -- I'm considering 8 to 12 of the latter. They grow more slowly (white rocks grow in 6 to 8 weeks, or 10 to 12 weeks for a larger bird) but without the leg problems common to the fast growing breeds, aka genetic ticking time bombs. (Which comes first -- a trip to the butcher or the massive heart attack? I'm being disingenuous, but only just.)

I'm thinking I'd like to pasture these birds in some sort of chicken tractor. But first I have to build the chicken tractor.

Finally, I'd like to raise a some turkeys. Well, I'd like to raise only two turkeys -- one for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas (actually, I have this idea of growing our entire holiday meal, which sounds fairly simple, but knowing me it'll morph into a project of epic proportions. See the above mentioned chicken tractor.) -- but given what I've heard about raising turkeys (they can drown in a rain storm) I think I'll be raising a few extras, just in case. I'm considering the Ridley Bronze a Canadian heritage turkey. But like the meat birds, I've got to do some more research on this. That'll have to wait until tomorrow's tea break.

What breeds will be on your chick list this year?

Madcap Monday -- Together again

Last April, I posted about an unlikely pair: Jemima and Betsy, a Muscovy duck and a Columbia Rock x Rhode Island chicken who had decided to co-nest on a clutch of eggs.

Looks like they're back together for a 2011 hatching!


Happy belated Mother's Day to all you wonderful mamas!

Dealing with prolapse - an update

So thanks to you amazing readers, I figured what I had to do. I knew before but I needed that extra push, someone telling me, "It's okay... you can do this."

Well I can't.

Not yet at least. And I tried. I got everything ready -- the block, the hatchet AND an axe, just in case. I got the hen, who had since nested down in a corner under the sink in the barn and brought her her final place. As I laid her down, I apologized, explained that this was for the best and I thanked her for her eggs and her contribution to our farm.

I raised the hatchet, took a deep breath in.... and she started freaking out, squawking and flapping at me. So I of course panicked and let go. She stood up, pooped all over the block (that was thankfully covered in newspaper) and jumped down with the hideous prolapse hanging like a pendulum behind her. She then proceeded to walk, albeit slowly, over to the remains of the rhubarb, sit herself down and stare back at me as if to say, "Well that didn't go very well. What are you going to do now?"

The only thing I can: I just called in my own reinforcements. Lucas said he'd help as soon as he got home.

I don't know what feels worse - the fact that I have to do this or the fact that I can't.

Now I'm wondering if I can't see them through their entire life cycle, should I even be keeping chickens?

For the back story, go here.

UPDATE ON MY UPDATE: It's done. Lucas took the hatchet to her. I told him I wanted to be there but he did it when I was getting the kids from the bus. It was his first time too and he wanted to do it without an audience. I get that, except it does feel like I'm still stuck in the same mental spot. That said, I know we'll have to do another dispatch sooner or later. Hopefully, I'll be more ready then.

Dealing with prolapse

This isn't the blog post I expected to be writing this morning. I have a lovely one all ready, in my head at least, about these amazing whole wheat cinnamon buns that we made yesterday.

Instead, I'm writing about prolapse in chickens. (If you're feeling squeamy today, stop reading now.)

I went out to the barn this morning on my usual round of chores and I noticed one of the Minorca Blacks was sitting under the watering stand. Even when I threw down some feed, she just sat there. I gently gave her a nudge with my boot and when she stood up, I immediately understood why she was there.

Hanging from her backside was what looked like a bloody, poopy mass: it was a prolapsed oviduct, also known as eversion or blowout. This usually occurs when a chicken (or duck or goose) strains to pass a too big egg. Essentially, the lower part of the oviduct, the tube by which the eggs passes, turns inside out.

If caught early, I've read that it's possible to wash the area with warm water and a gentle antiseptic or even sugar water, to help reduce the swelling, before gently pushing the mass back in. Then you apply hemorrhoidal cream such as Prep H to the area and isolate the hen so the others don't pick at her. (If you want more info, go here, here, here or here.)

Unfortunately, I think I found it too late. I tried cleaning the area and while she wasn't agitated at all, it was impossible to remove all the detritus. There was just too much swelling and poop and nastiness. And the smell... I'm not normally a queasy person but thank goodness I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. Unfortunately, a stench like that suggests infection and that's not a good thing.

So I know what I have to do: I should put her out of her misery. And I'm being a total coward about it. If I'm totally honest, there's a part of me that hopes she passes while I'm inside trying to figure out HOW to do this. Like dying a slow death due to shock or sepsis is more palatable than a quick death my hands. Right.

I'm not the only greenhorn to go through this, I know. Just yesterday I read and commented on a great post at E-I-E-I-OMG! about how blogger Susan had to call in a neighbour to help her do the ultimate dispatch.

She captured my feeling towards this perfectly when she wrote,

"I think a lot of my cowardice comes from equal parts: fear and ignorance. Fear that I will somehow botch the job and make the suffering worse, and ignorance of what is the best and most humane way to end a chicken's life. Sure, I know all the processing methods - quick chop/sharp axe, broom handle/foot, cone/knife - I've got the books. But this (at least to me) is different. Maybe that's where I'm going wrong. I had better arm myself better for the future - knowledge-wise, that is."

I promised to share the misses and blisses of life on our farm and this is definitely one of the misses. I'll keep you posted.

UPDATE: Okay, I'm still sitting at my computer trying to figure out what to do. I've been reading this thread at BackYard Chickens and I'm more confused than ever! Do I break its neck, using its head like a handle and then spin (I shuddered just writing that) or take a hatchet to it (the thought totally turns my stomach)? Or do something else? I've never ever killed anything before but I don't think it's fair that I always get Lucas to do this kind of dirty work.

I'm freaking out here. Any thoughts, suggestions?

Madcap Monday - Chicken magic tricks

Hey, do you want to see a magic trick?

Watch my head. Now you see it, now you don't!

Cool -- the headless chicken trick! Let me try.

Madcap Monday - Learning to fly

As hard as it is to watch, there comes a time when baby has to leave the nest. And apparently, Peppy has decided this is her time.

I've been quite worried about this day because Jemima, Betsy and baby chick are in a makeshift brooder, with only some straw bales and a piece of scrap wood between their nesting area and the feed area where the barn cats eat. Peppy seems so small and fragile and with all our other losses lately, I simply didn't want to face another.

Once again, turns out I wasted worry for nothing. While Chris the Cat was at first quite interested in the mysterious "peep, peeps"from behind the straw bales, I'm sure the hissing, snarling she-duck scared him off (she certainly scared me off).

Then late last week, I found Peppy and Betsy strutting around the goat area, scratching and nimbly hopping around the impatient and clumsy 'feed-me-right-NOW' goat hooves.

As soon as the goats saw me, all hell broke loose (they were REALLY hungry) and Mama and babe made their escape back into feed area where Peppy got her first crash course in flying.

As soon as Betsy disappeared behind the wooden partition, Peppy started to flap and peep and generally work herself up into a total panic. Like a moth drawn to the light but stopped by the clear glass of a window pane, she flapped and bounced off the partition, her tiny wings unable to carry her those last few inches over the top. Betsy called to her, her clucks raising in pitch and volume, like she was willing her young charge upward to safety.

Despite an overwhelming urge to intervene, to scoop her up and carry her over to her nest on the other side, I resisted. This was Peppy's life lesson after all.


Okay, so maybe I moved the wooden partition over just a bit. Two feet is pretty far to fly when you're only four inches tall.

Madcap Monday

"One of these things is not like the other..."

Meet Jemima and Betsy. Jemina is the Muscovy duck on the left and Betsy is the Columbian Rock x Rhode Island Red chicken on the right.

About a month ago, I noticed that the other ducks were picking on Jemima so at night, I put her on her own in the feed/prep area of the barn. Soon after, I noticed that she was stealthily building a nest behind the "cubby area" where we store hay (hence the name Jemima, after Beatrix Potter's character Jemima Puddle-duck, who tries to hide her eggs from the farmer's wife so she can hatch them herself).

Then came Betsy, who also liked to nest in strange places. I thought the two of them might get ornery with each other as while the ducks and chickens don't pick fights, they're certainly not chummy. It appears these two have worked something out.

A few days after these two started co-nesting, Betsy left for some power scratching in the barnyard. She ran out through the barn doors, wings flapping and comb twitching, and beelined it to Gall's morning manure pile as fast as her little chicken legs could carry her. She was on a mission: to scratch at all the undigested grain kernels in his poop. While she was engaged in her gross buffet breakfast, I got a chance peek at the nest.


The white eggs are Jemina's and the brown ones are Betsy's.

I wondered what would happen when the eggs started hatching -- chicks hatch after 21 days while Muscovies take 35 days -- but again I decided to let nature take its course.

Seems like I made the right choice this time.


Now what I can't figure out is, how did a Barred Plymouth Rock egg/chick get in to the nest???

An uninvited visitor

I love gazing out over the barnyard while sitting at my big farmhouse kitchen table. Just like earlier this evening. I was admiring the frolicking goats, the handsome horse, the small red creature standing in the run-in stalking our ducks….

HEY!!!! That's a red fox going into the barn!!

Photo courtesy of fotosearch.com

Off I went running out of the house like a lunatic again (I tend to do a lot of that around here) with Lucas close behind me. I guess the fox heard me coming (really?) for it high-tailed it into the paddock behind the barn and was later spotted trotting along the far end of the adjacent hayfield before entering the woods.

We’ve been restricting our hens’ barnyard movements for the last week after finding several suspicious piles of feathers in the hayfield. We thought it might have been a fox that had snatched a hen or two (or three) but what surprised me just now is how brazen it was – standing there, just a few feet from the entrance to the barn like it owned the place.

Thankfully, all winged creatures are accounted for but it's too bad we can't give our "noble" donkeys any credit for saving the day. You know the barn-eating, hay-burning creatures we installed to protect our flock? They missed out on the action. Completely. They were behind the barn treating themselves to some lovely dust baths.

Since this latest crisis, I've been reading up on foxes on the BackYard Chickens' "Predators and Pests" forum and I know we should count ourselves very lucky -- this time. For it'll be back. It's not a question of if, but when.

So it looks like I'll be shopping for more electric fencing tomorrow -- maybe that portable netting stuff -- or perhaps some traps, though foxes sound pretty tricky to snare.

Unless anyone else has any suggestions -- what do you do to keep your poultry safe?

Madcap Monday

Think I need to make some new nesting boxes?

Morning barn madness

Farmers are early risers for a good reason.

There's lots to do, especially when you've got animals.

Thankfully, many hands make light work and the kids have taken to helping me with the barn chores (they actually look forward to the visit -- most mornings.)

So here's a peek at our post-breakfast routine:

1.) Feed equines. Gallagher first, donkeys next.

Yes, Gall is our biggest animal but feeding him first has more to do with managing herd dynamics than his size: If we don't give him his grain first, he gets all snooty and pushes the donkeys out of the run-in (he's the alpha so he has to eat first in the name of "protecting" the donkeys). Hay in the summer? What about grazing, you may ask. We also have a paddock roped off in the larger hayfield but it's so buggy out there right now, the equines stay pretty close to the barn during the day. While we're still trying to get some weight on Gall, the donkeys certainly don't need any help there. But it's either we feed them hay or they eat the barn. No kidding.

Gentle boy


We think Cinder was looking for the self-serve buffet.

Lee too. He's got to work on his stealth skills though (note that donkeys are not allowed in this part of the barn.)

Putting those muscles to work.

Breakfast, finally.

2.) Release ducks.

The ducks are free range during the day but we house them in a converted goat stall at night. Once the donkeys are munching on their hay, there's a clear passage from the barn to the duck/goat yard where they've got their water and paddling pool.

Once (if?) we get our hay cut, they'll be able to access the ponds where they can paddle at will (the Rouens at least. The Muscovies aren't too sold on this whole swimming thing. They prefer flapping, perching and sleeping. And squeaking once in a while (they can't quack, though they do try so hard.))

Peeking duck

Getting ready for the big release


Paddle pool or bust!

Testing out the wings (the Rouens prefer the feet)


Upside-down duck limbo

Like a duck to water

3.) Release chickens.

We've got 30 "babies" (they're three months old now -- I'll get around to posting about their arrival soon) in addition to our nine laying hens (we lost one Red in the spring.) We keep them inside the barn during the night but let them out first thing in the morning. We've got a poultry "yard" made with chicken wire and snow fencing (so classy) but the chickens use that perimeter as a loose guideline. They're usually roaming around the barnyard, scratching in equine poop (of which there is a lot of ), picking at weeds (of which there are also a lot of) or catching bugs (ditto for lots of those).

Chicken run

On their way...

Strike a pose

Henry really needs some sheep or something. The chickens just didn't want to be herded.

We have proper nesting boxes but the chickens have taken to laying in a secret nest among the straw bales.

4.) Feed and water goats.

We've been keeping the goats inside lately because Lucy, who we suspect is pregnant (yes, us greenhorn farmers didn't realize that a buck could be so 'fruitful' at such a young age. We've fixed the problem (okay, we fixed Sammy) but we're left with the prospect of a goat kid (or kids, it's hard to tell) sometime in August) likes staying close to home during the day (who knew goats could get barn sour?). Sammy likes staying close to Lucy (though he also loves tearing around the barnyard terrorizing the sumac.)

Lucy (behind) and Sammy on goat mountain.

Getting in to her work

More muscle power (That look means, "Come ON mum, this water bucket is heavy!")

The nighttime routine is pretty much the same (but in reverse) except we also feed the chickens and ducks and collect eggs. The ducks usually return to their pen on their own around 6:00 pm and the chickens come in for the night at dusk. Of course there's also cleaning, sweeping, fixing, grooming, picking feet, refilling feed bins, stacking hay, etc. (And we're only hobby farmers at this point -- just wait until we get our 'working' animals!)

It's a lot of work but it's worth it, especially when I've got my farm hands to help.