First Chick Of 2009
We’ve had a couple of hens nesting Ying/Yang style in one of the feed troughs out in the sheep shed.
How do you like this “feed trough”? The Farmer made it from the headboard of an old twin bed.
Usually it’s the guineas who pair up to nest. I guess these young hens decided it was a good idea and followed their example.
Yesterday evening I got a nice surprise. The first little chick for 2009 was following around the Buff Orpington hen.
Chick running to catch up with Mama Hen.
This morning when I went out to do chores, I saw the hen sitting in the llama’s pen.
Hen sitting on chick.
I’ll confess I couldn’t resist getting close enough to the hen so she’d move. And MOVE they did… so fast, I could hardly get a picture!
New little chick with Mama Hen.
Since the white hen is still sitting on the nest, and Peepers is under the workshed on a nest, there are bound to be more little chicks!
I love those little fluffballs!
Sneaky Llama
It’s always been a problem keeping the goats away from young vegetation. They love to munch up on my honeysuckle vines –
“Alabama Crimson Tide Honeysuckle“… and about any other young growth, even on trees. I can’t tell you how many trees they stripped of leaves, and worse, girdled the bark and made the tree die. It’s very, very BAD for goats to get into the orchard!
One of their other favorite treats are the leaves on my rose bushes. You’d think the thorns might be a bit of a deterrent, but you’d be wrong.
This I expect. What I did NOT expect was to look out one day and see our male llama, Samson, had snuck into the back yard and was munching up on my newly leafed-out rosebushes!
He seemed to think they were quite tasty.
He liked them so much, in fact, that in order to get to them, he squirmed through what is a rather small opening for him, considering his size.
I thought perhaps it was a one time thing, but now every morning when I let them out of their night pens, he makes a beeline for the rose garden. To prevent total defoliation, I’ve had to start shutting the gate to keep him out.
“You got a problem?“As a matter of fact, yes, I’ve got a problem. I like my rose bushes with leaves on them, thank you very much!
REALLY Rowdy Roosters!
One of the biggest problems on the farm is having too many boys. My apologies to the guys reading this, but I’m afraid it’s true. Too much testosterone on the farm leads to trouble.
Take for instance our chickens. Last year I let a couple of broody hens raise some chicks, and what did I end up with? A whole lot of roosters, that’s what. More roosters than hens, that’s what. TOO MANY ROOSTERS, that’s what!
They seemed to get along all right until this spring. Ahhh yes, spring, when love (lust?) is in the air, and all of a sudden, it’s every rooster for himself! Every single rooster wanted his own harem, and that meant ALL the hens, no sharing.
The hens got rather tired of never being left alone and would hide under things to keep the roosters, quite literally, off their backs.
Look close: see how ragged the poor hens backs look because most of the feathers have been torn off!
The young roosters were far too aggressive, bothering the hens constantly, fighting each other, and as the final straw, exiling the patriarch rooster to wander around alone. Even at feeding time, they wouldn’t let him near.
Never mind these chickens have about 12 acres to roam over during the day. Never mind that they have no less than 4 different roosting places to settle in at night. Oh no, that wasn’t enough, they each one wanted it ALL to themselves.
I figured enough was enough. I was steamed. If the roosters wouldn’t behave, the roosters were gone. So one night while the roosters were roosting, The Farmer and I went out and while I shone a light in their eyes, he grabbed them. One by one we captured those rotten roosters and chunked them in a pen by themselves.
You won’t behave? So there! Let’s see how you like being cooped up!
These are the five I selected for exile. I put an ad in the local Freecycle and on Craigs List for FREE ROOSTERS.
The first to go were the Sicilian Buttercup roosters. The 4 white ones left the farm soon after.
I kept one Sicilian Buttercup that had been low man on the totem pole, constantly being chased and his tail feathers picked out. And I kept the patriarch of the clan, cause I figured he deserved to have his girls back.
Look Ma, NO tail feathers!
Now, you would think since the thugs were gone that these two lowly roosters would be happy to share the farm space and the hens, right? Of course not. Things are never that easy. One morning I looked out and they were having a huge FIGHT.
Now most of the time the roosters fuss a little, but it’s quickly over. Not this time! They were in rooster-to-rooster combat, determined to have ONE winner, one rooster to rule the roost!
I went out to do the morning chores and break up the fight. I thought maybe a little cracked corn would take their mind off fighting. Ha!
They got into it again.
I’d break it up, and it wouldn’t be but a minute or two until they were having another showdown.
They were determined that ONE of them was going to be King of the Roost.
It didn’t matter how many times I interfered, they were going to FINISH that fight!
It seemed like the young upstart would win, but the old boy hung in there, determined he was going to be at the TOP of the pecking order again!
In the end, he got to crow in victory. Age, treachery and experience won out. The patriarch is once again King.
It was a hard fight.
The combat was lengthy.
But!
He is once again King of The Roost,
bloody but unbowed.
..
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Toby’s Second Favorite Activity
I think we’ve pretty well established that our farm collie, Toby, loves playing in water more than anything else on the planet. However, creeks and puddles and water spraying out of a hose aren’t always available, so what does he do with the rest of his time?
He plays with sticks. Anything from a tiny twig the size of a toothpick to a 2×8 board to a log so big he can hardly drag it around.
We had a big limb fall out of a tree a while back, and The Cave Geek broke a chunk off to give to Toby.
This was great prize to Toby!
Ha, ha! It’s mine, all MINE!!!!
He carried it all over the place, even though he could barely close his mouth around it, and drooled cause he couldn’t swallow with that big chunk of tree in his mouth.
Walk softly and carry a big stick?
This just happens to be his idea of a good time. In fact, the minute you go out the door, the first thing he does is look for a stick. It doesn’t matter what size, he’s just got to have one!
After a while though, carrying it around isn’t enough. He has to chew on it.
(Sorry about the poor quality of this little video, but the digital camera I’m using these days is from way back, and the technology wasn’t so good for video capture.)
The video may not be the greatest, but you can hear a couple of good crunches in there and see those nice big teeth working on reducing that bit of log to splinters.
That isn’t the biggest chunk of wood I’ve seen him carting around, but like I said, he’s not picky about the size. Sometimes he has little sticks that look like he’s got a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Sometimes he plays lumberjack.
But whatever the size, carrying and crunching wood rates right up there as his second favorite pastime.
In The Catbird Seat
cat·bird (kat′bʉrd′) A slate-gray North American passerine bird (Dumetella carolinensis) with a black crown and tail: it makes a mewing sound like that of a cat Catbirds have the habit of finding very high places to sing their songs. Therefore, a human “catbird” is somebody in a prominent, showy position.
catbird seat – an enviable position, as of power. Popularized by sportscaster Red Barber, it first appeared in print in a 1942 short story by James Thurber.
The feathered creature is a handsome bird. And I’ve known a lot of human catbirds. But we have a different sort of catbird around here. Ours is mostly white, with a slate gray tail and spots.
Like the feathered catbird, it makes a mewing sound. Our special variety also makes it a habit of finding very high places, and likes being in a prominent, showy position.
It’s just that sometimes, those prominent positions are a little strange, but in this case, totally apropos for a catbird in the catbird seat…
Yes, one morning when I came back in from doing chores, on the back porch I found our catbird, Spot, in a birdcage that I use as a travel cage for the parrot and for orphan chicks.
Technically, as you can see on the label, this birdcage is meant to house medium birds.
I think perhaps our catbird may be a little large for this particular cage, but he seems to like an occasional snug fit, and doesn’t mind being in jail as long as the door is open.
And from this look, I’m guessing he’s saying…
“You got a problem with that?”
.
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