Fowl Play

We love our chickens here at the farm. They provide hours of entertainment. Each has their own personality and that varies from 'Leave me alone!' to 'Hey, how are you? Why don't you pick me up and scratch me under my wing?'.

Our chickens stay in their chicken yard until mid-day and then we let them out so they can free range in the great out-of-doors... they walk, run, climb hills and scratch at the dirt and dig up bugs. Their yard is big, but they do love to roam about the property.

That was, until yesterday afternoon.

I was at a vet appointment and I got a text from our neighbor: "911- a coyote got one of your chickens". When I got home, I immediately went to check our girls. I called them (yes  - they come when called) and I counted. 13 hens. At the beginning of this year we had 17 but had lost three to what I thought was either coyotes or hawks. Of those three losses, one was because a bird refused to come into the coop at night. I don't need to tell you that a helpless chicken out in the wild at night is -  well.... a sitting duck, so to speak.

Anyhoo, back to the story. We had 14 hens as of yesterday morning and 13 when I got home. Yup, sure enough, one was gone. And it was Candy. You remember Candy - she's the one that lays the goofy, misshapen eggs.

And as I went back into the house to change into my chicken coop shoes, I heard a chicken ruckus. As I ran outside, I saw the backside of a coyote with a beautiful tail, and a hen in his mouth. Dammit. I counted again. Twelve. 12 hens.

I got all the chickens into their yard and shut them in. They happily pecked away at the scratch I had thrown around their yard. Yet I knew they weren't quite safe. Our chicken yard fence had large gaps oat the bottom of the T-posts that comprised the structure on which the fencing rests. So I stayed outside last night until dusk,when the chickens return to the coop and I could lock them in safely for the evening.

This morning, bright and early, The Lovey went to the hardware store and got clips to attach to the fencing and the wood frame to secure the fence much more. The chickens are now safe (fingers crossed) but will have to stay inside their enclosed area from now on. The coyotes know they are here. I don't want them to continue to return for dinner.

Soap Opera Life

Sometimes Seven Cats Farm feels a little soap opera-y. Soap operas focus on who is sleeping with who, finding grandfather's uncle's brother's cousin's wife's long lost baby only to find out that it is your cousin to whom you are married, and on and on...

Our soap opera show today focuses on chickens. It's been awhile since we've visited out chicks and chickens here on the blog, so let's get caught up, shall we?

So, when last we left our heroes, Trudy had hatched four chicks and was being a great mom. Trudy continues to be a great mom, however one of her chicks got sick - it was something respiratory - poor thing was gasping for air and was sneezing. I separated the chick from Trudy and after trying to nurse her back to health, that chick died. So Trudy is down to three chicks - and they all are great.

In the meantime, we put another seven eggs in the (properly calibrated!!!) incubator. About a week before the eggs were to hatch, Candy went broody! Woot! I was thrilled and got busy moving birds around so I could put Candy in a carrier in what was to be the Chicken Nursery. So the bantam chickens were moved into the chicken tractor into the main pen, Trudy was moved into a larger carrier/ cardboard box where the bantams were, and we added the cleaned original Trudy carrier into the previous bantam area, aka the nursery. Candy went into said carrier and under her went seven eggs. Did you follow the bouncing ball? Phew.

Three days later and it's hatching day. I happen to have a migraine and am in bed, but The Lovey comes in to report that one chick has hatched and is fine. Yay!!! A few hours pass, and I decide to get myself up and check on the Candy and her chicks. Thank goodness I did. Although Candy was a great sitter, she was a lousy mother. She had killed two of her chicks, a third was hiding in a corner, and the rest of the eggs hadn't yet hatched. I got The Lovey and we moved the alive chick and eggs back into the incubator and moved Candy back into the main chicken hen (she is currently in broody rehab. More on that later).

So we now have five healthy chicks in a cardboard box brooder in our sun room. They are doing really well. Eight chicks with two different mothers - one is a chicken the other is a heat lamp. We are now encouraging all the chicks to be hens. Because you don't want to be a rooster at Seven Cats Farm.

The real story

When people think of farms and growing things, visions of green hillsides, freshly painted barns, happy cows and clothes hanging from the clothesline come to mind. Oh how wrong that is. My friend and mentor says that farming is more about death than life. She is right.

So here's the real story on the chicks. They died. Yes, chicks - plural. The first one to hatch, the blonde, died within 24 hours. The second one died about 48 hours after it hatched.

Why? They were in the egg too long and were weak. Both could not hold their heads up. They couldn't walk. We were told that we needed to put them out of their misery. Drowning would be the kindest way to do it. But you know what? We couldn't do it. We just couldn't. Does that mean we are cruel? I don't know. You can be the judge of that. We brought them to water and let them drink, tried to have them eat, kept them warm. We talked to them. But in the end, they died.

We spoke with the Lovey's Gentleman Farmer friend. He said that the temperature in the incubator was too low. I was really mad to hear that. Of course I had set the incubator at the correct temperature! But then I had a light bulb moment. Was the temperature calibration on the incubator correct? We checked. It was not. I had set the temperature for 99.6F, but the internal temperature was 95.4F. That is a HUGE difference when hatching eggs. No wonder five didn't hatch and the other hatched at day 24 and 25 (instead of Day 21). Bad bad bad bad.

So what do we do? Quit?!? One thing about farming - you have to have hope. Stick a seed in the ground, water and watch it grow. Nature fights to live. So we've re-calibrated the unit and are trying again. That's what farmers do. We keep going.

Solving a Murder

I have had many questions or comments regarding the murder of our chickens. Many people have gently commented that it might have been the cats. After all, we are Seven Cats Farm. So I did a little bit of asking (read as frantic phone calls and emails to some people who know much more than I do). This is what I've learned.

Chickens are too big for cats to mess around with. Bobcats - yes, a chicken makes a nice little snack. But not for our mousers. Mice, gophers, voles... these are the things that are the right size for our cat pride.

It has been told that both skunks and opossums will get into a coop and kill a chicken just to dine on their brain. Who know that chicken brain was a rodent delicacy.

Our neighbor heard a cat fight in the middle of the night of the crime. Here is what I think happened: Our mousers heard a ruckus and came to inspect and found (probably) an opossum in with the chickens. They scared the opossum away and that is why only two chickens were killed and why Anna's body was left intact. So the cats are the heroes of the story.

And for all you who know better, let me have this fantasy of mine.

The Honeymoon is Over

This farming stuff. It's really hard. There are days where it is wonderful and I sit out in the middle of the field and pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Today was not one of those days.

I went out to feed the chickens this morning. I make funny chicken noises and I am usually greeted by Alfonso, the rooster. His women excitedly follow, knowing that soon they will all be let out to forage for the day. But today it was really quiet. Hmmmm.

Hmmm.... feathers on the ground. What's going on?

Something got into the chicken tractor. I don't know what it was. There is no tunnel that exited into the tractor, the chicken wire is all intact. There was a space - about three inches wide by two inches deep - where something could have gone in. The result: two chickens are dead - Alfonso the rooster and Anna, the two year old hen.

This is the scene of the crime - where Alfonso was killed. It's a mystery because there is no blood. There were scattered feathers and sadly, Alfonso was decapitated. But no blood. Anna was at the fenced end of the tractor, and she looked like she was just asleep. But she was dead.

Poor Alice. She has what looks like a few lost feathers on her head, and she was (and still is) pretty freaked out.

I am grateful for the neighbors I have. I ran up to their house and they helped me move the tractor and scooped up the dead bodies. Later in the day they came to my rescue again and helped me relocate Alice and the tractor to her new location in the back yard.

Anna and Alfonso are buried on the hill where the other animals are buried.

Anna is eating a little and she even laid an egg this afternoon. I think she approves of her new location. But she will need company soon as chickens are not solitary animals. Saturday she'll be getting two new chickens to hang out with. The whole 'pecking order' thing worries me, but that really is out of my control. They will have to figure that out.

So many people when they think of farming, think of happy cows grazing in green meadows, sheep baa-ing  behind white sturdy fences, beautiful straight rows of organic vegetables growing. The reality is that there are a lot of blood, sweat, and tears that happen. Today was a 'tears' day. This farming stuff is hard. Not only physically tough and financially ridiculous, but it was also emotionally gut wrenching. These poor animals were killed in their home and they couldn't get out. They were not eaten. They were killed and left. I don't understand it.

Tomorrow will be a better day, but I know there will be other hard days ahead. The honeymoon is over. I am grateful for The Lovey - the love of my life and man of my dreams (and more), the animals I live with, the place I call home and the people that surround me. But farming.... you've lost your sparkle.

I will get up tomorrow and it will be a better day. It WILL be a better day.