Poop

Are Chickens For You?

With the daily life of dealing with 20-30 birds consistently, you really learn about them with hands-on expertise. What’s called OJT. Yep. No book is going to train you for all the stuff you will face with raising chickens. However, read them!

If you are squeamish, chickens aren’t for you, unless you excel in bravery, then you might get past all the poop-cleaning and sickness birds ‘sometimes’ have.

The first time I got poop on my hand I almost threw up. After five  years of chickens, I look at it and think, “Okay, I need to go wash that off” then get distracted and forget. Sort of like a Mom does with babies. After a while, you just aren’t moved much by it. You do what you  must do…

I do still make Stink Face though…. We all have one.

(I love this face)…

So, while I’m on the topic of POOP. . .

You are going to find yourself looking at a lot of it (POOP) willingly. Yes, you will! (Don’t make that face at me. 🙂  You’ll want to know what’s happening inside the bird, and frequently, that means looking at POOP. What does it look like? Runny? Solid? Wormy? … Who’s doing the squish bottom dance? They sort of walk funny when they have diarrhea. Just like anyone else who feels lousy, it shows in their walk and how they hold themselves. Yes, you are going to befriend the bottom of any chicken you have decided to keep.

The Happy Rump

Believe me, no one will come running to aid you in looking at the bottoms of your hens. It’s a YOU and THEM process, and you will become so adept at reading chicken asses, that you can tell almost instantly who’s not doing well,  who needs wormed, who needs medicine, who ate too much of the wrong thing.

All the magic happens on that end of the hen…  
Study up on the reproductive tract of chickens, and also the digestion issues they have, and basic illnesses.  This is so much easier now that we have the internet! I mean the whole world is at your fingertips. Study, Study, Study!   – I did not study enough before launching myself forward, but here I am 5 years later, still with hens and for the most part, I haven’t killed any yet. 🙂 I’m studying a lot more now.

So, this isn’t my most glorious post about hens but let me tell you, it’s quite honest…

Much love to you readers out there!!

Chicken Mom

Time Out

Have you ever just needed “Time Out”, so you can collect your thoughts and have a moment’s peace and quiet? Yea, me too…

Time Out!

When my children were small, I’d run to the bathroom, and hide for a moment. Of course they know where I’m at, because they are banging on the door with hi-pitched yells of MOM!! MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!! MOMMY!! Oh God, I do not miss those days. My Mother said, “It’s payback time for all the ‘cut-short’ visits I had to make to the necessary room”. She’s likely right though. I did bang on the bathroom door yelling for her. I even remember, and that’s something for a tiny tot to still remember doing that. I must have been a ferocious little turd to raise.

Oh yes, Chickens! I’ve not forgotten, really. I’m getting there. So here it is.

Time Out, now means that I get to walk outside and go sit with the girls. Usually, I sit with the 15 new hens, who are now mature enough to lay eggs. They are still young enough to be curious about what I’m doing and they still like to be with people. I’m glad. My older ladies who are separated from the younger ladies aren’t really “into” body contact and they have mood swings. (laughing). They are old and grumpy. They aren’t much fun to sit with really. I talk to them and they look at me and I know they are just really saying, “Piss off”. Sigh…  Here’s a picture of the older ladies (Grumbles a Lot, Stupid Chicken, Sweetie, Boss Lady, Blackie, Top-hat, Mohawk, Soggy-bottom-girl, Crissy, Meanass, Pecky).

The Older Ladies

Now, my younger minions looooooooooove me. They come worship at my feet. I mean really… (OK, I’m having a bit of fun at your expense, but bear with me).

They usually follow me around wondering what I’m doing. I have to shoo them out-of-the-way; sometimes shoving them with the toe of my shoe. Falling face first down into a fresh pile of poop would be no fun. They do not understand this! (Yes, that’s the top of my head)

I call the ladies, “My Minions” or, “My adoring fans”. They know I love them dearly. Most of them want face kisses. Some just prefer to be left alone, and I respect that (mostly). Sometimes, I still grab them up and kiss the devil out of them and put them down. Sort of like you’d do with a rebellious kid. I only have a couple like that from the New Flock.

However, I never have to force Victoria into a lap-time hug. She just falls asleep.  She’s an Ameraucana. Such a lovely little lady who lays the prettiest blue-green eggs.

Lap-Time Nap with Victoria

As the girls grew up and became full-grown hens, I was afraid they would become cold and distant. So far, they have not. Actually, they seem to look forward to my visits and look up at me with such intensity that I wonder what they are trying to convey to me? Food? Likely… Chickens are quite food motivated. One of the ladies whose name is “Cleo”, short for Cleopatra, feels it her given right in the flock to groom me. Any freckle, any  bit of trash on my leg or do-dad that she deems edible she’s going to snag up. If it’s a mosquito, watch out! She’s going to snag that little bugger! I hardly know what she’s up to until I watch her. She can silent and painlessly pick off anything on my body. Amazing. Well, all except the freckles. She’s not been successful at that yet. Usually that ends poorly, and she’s learning that freckles are not meant for eating or picking off.  Photo below of Cleo!  Determined little face, huh?

Cuckoo Maran

Well, in closing here… It’s just my consensus that, to have a flock of chickens is therapy for Time Out. Usually about 3 in the afternoon the girls and I visit and we catch up on the day. Some just flop down on my foot and go to sleep. Others like to sit there and let me groom them. They love the little feathers in tender areas (rump) picked over. I don’t get very involved there, but I notice other hens do that to each other, so occasionally, I’ll reach around and tug on some of the fluffy feathers like I’m grabbing a bug. (Laughing again here) – They turn and see what I’m grabbing to eat. (Yea Right! Ha, ha! Not..) It is cute though.

♥Chicken Mom♥

 

One of the Girls

Do you ever get to the point that your chickens think maybe you are just one of the more heavy-set girls in the flock?  I think mine are getting that way with me. If I grow feathers, someone call the doctor!

Lately, I’ve been about living in the chicken yard, fixing this and moving that. Then starting new projects and working on stuff, bustling around, trying not to step on birds.

The mulch piles are in the chicken yard. That means repeat trips to drop in compostable items. They ladies are somewhat disappointed when I drop the bucket of stuff overboard in the mulch area. I can almost see them pout. Of course I keep some prize tidbits for them and that seems to redeem me in their eyes.

My decision to place work areas inside the chicken yard, was as much for me as it was for them. With me alongside them so much of the time, behavior and health issues are quickly noticed. Today Flakey, a lovely fat White Orpington had wet bottom. I don’t know what happened there, except maybe I over did the scraps yesterday…  Her vent was pretty messy.

Flakey Makes Me Laugh

She seems to hang around my feet a good bit, so I picked her up and looked at it. Hum… Nothing obviously wrong there. So, I went ahead and took the hose to her bottom. Sounds sort of harsh, but the weather has been very warm here; she got a nice warm spray bath on her bottom end. Nice and clean now, so I dried it off a bit. Then of course she heads right into the dust bath area and fluffs up.  Now she looks like a mucky-butt bottomed, mud-encrusted hen.  Oh well, I figure she’ll dry off and that stuff will go with it when it does dry (crossing fingers).

Do your hens move out of your way when you work? I’m wondering if these are normal birds at this point. A few of them I totally have to dodge! Some of the chickens, I have to down-right bend over and pick up, then move them over. They just don’t get it.  I have about six out there who feel it their god given right, to be under my feet.

Today I put in a small garden area. Yes, in the chicken yard. Why not? The mulch piles are in there, so is the ready compost pile. It stands to reason that the  garden spot should also be in there too. I really didn’t want to plant much this year. Just a few tomatoes, cucumbers and whatever else I use in the salads. Fresh salad greens sound lovely.

Future Garden

Smart chickens should feel threatened by the tiller so loudly moving the earth, but my really spoiled girls are just wondering what the heck that big “snoring machine” is? They (even with that thing) are dangerously curious, so I shoo them into the hen-house and shut the door. It’s quite large so there’s plenty of room, but they are not happy with me. I could hear Maw’s protests from inside. She’s livid. How dare I shut her inside. She wants so badly to dig into the newly tilled soil and find grubs.  I’m such a naughty Mom…

This is Maw. She wants me Dead

However, it’s going to be in the 20s by beginning of next week, and here it is March 1st! So much for that planting situation I had been dreaming of.  Inside my house sitting in tubs waiting on the weather to decide what it is doing, are two Satuma Citrus Trees, and One nicely growing Concord Grape Vine. I’ll wait on buying the tomato plants. I could start them now in a seed planter, but I have no room in the house for flats of germinating seeds.The new area has 8 feet walled fencing. Mostly because of Victoria who can jump 4.50 feet, standing flat-footed. Ask me how I know. She clears my yard fencing, which is that tall. Now, with that resolved and hoping she does not scale this fence, I hopefully will have a nice little garden patch in a few weeks.

Oh well, when this cold mess passes you can envision me in the nice fenced in planting area of the chicken yard, putting down tomatoes, cucumber, green peppers and a few squash plants. I’m excited about the prospect! With all the composed chicken poop anyone could want… If anyone would have told me that chicken poop would make me smile ear-to-ear, I’d have laughed them out of the house.

The Chicken Mama

The Eradicator

The Wonder of Chickens

This afternoon the girls were roaming the yard quietly doing their thing. I was sitting by the Koi pond talking to a dear friend, catching up on life.

I noticed one bird in particular running like a Mad-Hatter across the yard with about 4 other hens in pursuit. They do this frequently, so I took little notice of the event; I mean other than chuckling, because it was funny (They run like tourists, barefooted on HOT beach sand).

Then they were fighting over some tidbit of desire.  Likely some poor little lizard or bug. I had no clue they ate other creatures, but seemingly they not only eat them but they hunt for them too.

Like the day ‘Grumbles A Lot’ caught something in the grass and the Keep-Away game ensued, with 20 hens trying to grab what ‘Grumbles A Lot’ caught. Watching out of the house window, I was so curious what she had that I even ran outside. I could see something dangling out of her mouth, and it looks like a piece of fat cord which I used to tie something down. OH CRAP! If she swallows that, she’s going to die!  So I ran after ‘Grumbles A Lot’ too. Soon we have a huge commotion going on in the yard, and then my Husband runs out to see what’s wrong…  I explain that she’s found cording and if she downs that, she’s a goner so I’m trying to get her. (Now imagine doing that much talking, while dodging and bobbing and weaving in and our of obstacles, all the while chasing a hen).

I finally corner ‘Grumbles A Lot’ and what she caught was a Pygmy Rattlesnake! OMG!  She breaks free of the corner and goes to running again, and soon she’s gobbled up the whole snake. Even the tail disappears into her crop. She’s either a dead hen now, or she’s just happily full.  I watch her for over an hour. Nothing Ill happening….  Two Hours… nothing new.  She looks happy and pecking away like normal.

Somewhat perplexed and pleased, I come to the revelation, Really?  They eat snakes?  HOLY TOLEDO!

The conversation with my friend ends and I walk back to the house from the Koi Pond.  Laying limp pecked to death and goodly scratched, was a dead rat!

Evidently, they hunt Rats Too!

I love my chickens….