May 2017

The chickens have been put on restriction. To hear them tell it, unfair measures of containment have been taken, to which they’ve agreed to comply only if sufficient treats and toys are provided.  In actuality, we’ve covered their run in the interest of safety and they can free range when I can watch them.  I'm trying to convince Amin that a guard peacock would be an ideal addition to the family. Without a guard rooster, we’ve lost two hens and Blackberry has taken her broody self AWOL to sit a nest in the woods. She’s being very discreet about its location and knows when I’m trying to stalk her. It seems I’m a terrible chicken hunter.  Although I’ve managed to capture her twice, she manages to fly the coop back to her well hidden eggs.  This is possibly how egg hunts originated.   Violet, who would happily try to hatch a basket of rocks, at least has the courtesy to be broody in everyone’s favorite nest box inside the coop. It causes a lot of grumbling, but at least I know her where bouts as the other girls are sure to remind me daily that she’s not being a sharing friend.  

Happily, our hatching project was a 100% success.  I set ten eggs and was determined that ten eggs would hatch, even if that meant hatching the last two myself, as nervous as that made me. Tools needed: a warm damp sponge, a toothpick, and a whole lot of time.  Violet and Blackberry have nothing on me when it comes to broody.  Levels of enthusiasm vary throughout the family.  Mine is possibly the highest, Juniper is rather indifferent, hopping in the brooder to share treats, because if you have a meal worm you are obviously friend material as far as my June Bug is concerned.  Lenore, insisting that cats are meant to be cute not friendly, spent a week drafting an eviction notice demanding all peeping pieces of fluff be removed from her bedroom posthaste. She couldn't have been more pleased when they moved outside.  Amin is simply resigned to the fact that he will live the remainder of his days with an excess of chickens.  Primarily Polish chickens, much to his chagrin. It probably didn’t help that I got Fig’s eggs confused with Blackberry’s and hatched out chicks from his least favorite chicken and zero from his favorite.  Or maybe it was the extra four that I tried to sneak in with ours thinking maybe they’d just go unnoticed. Most likely he's just worn out from having to cover the chicken run, though.  I'm sure he’ll be ready to help me hatch a peacock in no time.  A couple of turkeys at the least.

Things I've learned this week include: 

1. My farming partner keeps a mental inventory of chickens and of the items in his snack basket. Don't expect respective adding or subtracting on the sly to go unnoticed.
2. Meal delivery services are a no go. It’s basically a way of letting someone else pick out what I’m not going to cook.
3. Camellia and Maybelle Bunny fancy themselves to be far superior interior designers than I am. Rearranging their belongings is as likely to go unnoticed as thieving from Amin’s snack basket is. They will be more much more dramatic about the situation and turn into two fluffy tornadoes seeking vengeance. There will be much cleanup required and hay everywhere. So much hay.
4. Spring will always mean fence repairs. No matter how many scratchers you put up in a goat pen, the fence just does a better job as far as they're concerned. Bonus, it will mean one of your most favorite humans ever will come hang out in the pasture with you all day. Goat logic: the more stuff you break, the more stuff your people will have to do at the barn. It's called helping and it’s a good human management practice.
5. I am not as smart as my chickens, but I'm working on it.