Bright, cold, windy. Happy March, and enjoy the lighter evening tonight!

ahedderick:

WELL, one of the hens has been laying these extra big eggs the last couple of days. I haven’t cracked one yet, but I’m betting they’re double yoked. I took the hot mash out to them this morning, again; they’re excited to see it every single time. At this rate, they’ll be disappointed when winter’s over!

I had eggs in my pocket while I walked the dogs, a poor decision that I got away with this time. I have been known to forget pocket eggs and then - oops - what a mess. Lady and Rosalie saw a squirrel at the edge of the woods. Lady was a normal amount of excited and Rosalie lost her tiny little mind. Scream-barking in frustration as the squirrel looked down on them in disdain. I kept my amusement to myself.

Ridiculous. This is a cartoon for large eggs. Cannot close the lid at all with this unit inside. And they’re not double-yoked! That was a really a surprise. They make a nice, big egg sandwich, though!

WELL, one of the hens has been laying these extra big eggs the last couple of days. I haven’t cracked one yet, but I’m betting they’re double yoked. I took the hot mash out to them this morning, again; they’re excited to see it every single time. At this rate, they’ll be disappointed when winter’s over!

I had eggs in my pocket while I walked the dogs, a poor decision that I got away with this time. I have been known to forget pocket eggs and then - oops - what a mess. Lady and Rosalie saw a squirrel at the edge of the woods. Lady was a normal amount of excited and Rosalie lost her tiny little mind. Scream-barking in frustration as the squirrel looked down on them in disdain. I kept my amusement to myself.

Yesterday K and I peeled and chopped veggies (mostly potatoes) for creamy potato soup. This morning I cooked up the peelings and odd bits, along with a scoop of chicken pellets. I took it out to them a little while ago, and they were delighted. Veggies and grain, cooked in veggie broth . . fed to chickens . . does that make it ‘chicken soup’?

This morning when I went out to give the chickens hot water and chicken feed cooked into hot mash, I found that the stupid, stupid rooster had abandoned the [relatively] comfortable coop last evening to sleep in the damned apple tree again. For his sins, he lost a good chunk of his comb and wattle to frostbite. Jeeeeez.

This evening, at last light, I went out to climb the tree and try to catch him. Coop enforcement. Roommate pulled into the lane as I was heading for the tree. As I started scrambling gracefully up into the branches, not making any embarrassing ‘OOF’ noises at all, I heard him cheerfully call out, “How’re you doing?”

I weighed the pros and cons of lying. “Not great!” I admitted. He took up a stance under the rooster, ready to catch the moronic bird when I managed to -

um

Well, Rooster was w-a-y far out on a slim branch. I was bracing myself as carefully across multiple branches as I could, but did not feel like it was a good idea to scoot all the way out there. I shook the branch to dislodge the rooster. He flapped and squawked, and hopped to another branch.

There followed what felt like a LONG period of increasingly clown-like antics. Two grown-ass adults versus one rooster, and the rooster was winning.

Finally, finally I managed to dislodge him, and he fell shrieking to the ground, to be scooped up by Roommate. I cut the flight feathers off one wing with scissors to, hopefully, discourage this same circus tomorrow. Roommate very kindly did not laugh at me, and walked off to feed the horses. Rooster was installed in the coop with the hens and fresh straw was packed around everybody to keep them as warm as possible.

Birds. Jeez.

Hootin’ and a'Hollerin’

There is SO MUCH screaming going on outside. I’m glad the young hens are laying eggs. I do not see why they have to spend several minutes yelling about it after each one. Noisiest chickens ever!

This evening after horse chores, Roommate and my daughter climbed the giant apple tree where most of the chickens roost. He caught the four ‘excess’ roosters and passed them down to her, to pass down to me on the ground. We need to confine them so we can butcher tomorrow. Having multiple roosters is just an accident waiting to happen; none of them have succeeded in killing each other *yet*, but it’s only a matter of time. I took the first one into the kennel, then realized there were three eggs in the box. When I tried to scoop up the eggs, the rooster sort of - exploded - in my face. He ran, shrieking, past me and out into the yard. K and Roommate, in the tree, limited themselves to polite exclamations of “oh, no!” and I appreciated their restraint.

I started pursuing the errant rooster into the darkness, think at any moment he’d realize he couldn’t see a damned thing and just stop. No. He did not. Rosalie, who wants with all her little whippet heart to chase chickens, followed me and the rooster across the pasture. She started making tentative little rushes at him, more herding than chasing. That looked like it might make things easier for me, so I encouraged her. At the barn he turned around and started heading back toward the coop and the tree. I persistance-predatored my butt after him. Engage the whippet!

Eventually, he made a mistake and I was able to grab him. Rosalie was vibrating with excitement. He and three other roos were confined, and the prettiest white one was caught to be taken down to live at Home Farm. The prettiest brown one was left in the tree; he will stay with us as long as he behaves himself.

We also gathered up the two oldest white hens, who no longer lay, to take them down to Home Farm, too. At this point Roommate had a furious rooster under one arm, and a soft, grumpy hen under the other. K took his keys to drive the truck. I was holding hen 2, who felt like a gigantic marshmallow. So squishy. Rosalie jumped up to sniff, and got her nose pecked. She was escorted unwillingly back to the house; her participation was no longer needed.

Tomorrow the three white ones will wake up in the barn with the goats at Home Farm. The hens remaining here will go about their day as usual. And K, Roommate, and I will have a small-scale butchering day. Hopefully won’t take too long.

Green beans, dried beans. I soaked a few of the dried beans overnight and started a nice pot of ham and bean soup this morning. It’s going to be good.

Little Brown’s daughters are starting to lay eggs. I appreciate how my stupid bloody camera decided to focus on the background of the floor instead of the eggs that were right in front of its lens. Spectacular work.

I haven’t had many eggs from the older hens, lately, so these are much appreciated.

Unlike with children, it is perfectly ok to have a favorite hen. That black hen with the delicate white ‘lacing’ around the edges of her feathers? Divine! The white ones, there are 5 or 6, are feel exactly like giant marshmallows when you pick them up; their feathers are so soft that you can 'squish’ them gently.

The new young roosters are making pests of themselves (they are roughly ‘teenagers’, so you can imagine). The older hens do not like them at ALL. Yesterday I was taking food to their trough, and I suddenly got hit in the back! Lightly! Followed by squawking and flapping as the old brown hen scrambled gracelessly up to perch on my shoulder. Apparently, a rooster was chasing her and she decided “on top of human” was the best place to hide. I looked at her (from a distance of about 4 inches). She was not budging. Shoulder is safe place. I sighed and let her eat some of the chickenfeed out of the scoop I was holding. Then set her down, ruffled but triumphant, inside the coop. We are overdue to butcher some roosters.