Deus, in adjutorium meum intende. Domine, ad adjuvandum me festina.
O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me.
Honestly, I am so conflicted about the upcoming election and the possible outcomes, that I can't even think about it this morning. So - just a little trivia about my "chikins" (as a billboard here in East Texas says - "Eat more chickin.").
No, no! We aren't eating any of our chikins - not yet - not until they stop being productive layers. Then they may wind up as chikin 'n' dumplin's. A side of buttermilk biskits then might be called for.
The little darlings never cease to peak my interest. Muttonchops, the now one and a half year old Auracana, is almost always first in the nests in the morning, ready to go to work. She prefers a particular end, top nest. When I go out to release the flock into the pasture about 8 a.m. or so, she is already working. Sometimes there's a Production Red (yes, that's a breed), whom I call Henny Penny, keeping her company in another nest. HP is one of our newly laying hens, having been in the group purchased as day old chicks back in March.
Dora the Explorer is a White Rock. Even as a chick she was on top of the brooder corral, on top of the table, on top of the feed bins, on top of something, and trying to get out. When it came time to integrate the older flock with newer pullets, she was first to cross the dividing line after I took down the barrier. Before introducing new members to a flock, it's well to have a look-but-not-fraternize period. Otherwise, there could be resentment and even bloodshed. As it is, the pecking order is soon established. Dora seems to have settled down and is content to stay within bounds at this point.
Desdemona, one of the original flock, an Auracana, once was very friendly and inquisitive. Since Othello met his doom after becoming unbearable, she has more or less melted into the crowd. I think she misses him. She is probably the only one! He was not only rough on me, and I have the scars to prove it on one arm where he gashed it with his talons, he was rough on the hens as well. There are a couple of them who still haven't re-grown all the feathers on their backs! And Othello has been in the freezer for a few months now. See - I can't get the family to let me cook him. He'd make a great stew. I think I'll just have to put him into a big pot and make broth out of him. Then maybe it won't offend the family's sensibilities. Honestly!
One of the other newbies is The Little Red Hen. She is low in the pecking order and stays to herself quite a lot. Another is Chatty Cathy. When I go out to feed or gather eggs or take their scratch treat at the end of the day, she comes right up to me and talks and talks and talks, following me around if I'm picking up bowls in the run, chatting with me all the while.
The really odd thing that has occurred now for over a week, is the Buff Orpinton (called Buffy, what else), whose comb flops over on one side. She has begun a daily ritual. We have portable, fold-up fencing around the chicken pasture. It can be moved around when we want to change their forage area. I have it fastened at the end of their hen house on one side, attached to the chicken wire that surrounds their safe-haven run. I unfasten it to go in to feed, water, and get them into the run for the night. The portable fencing is made of nylon roping material and has 4" x 2" mesh that makes up the fence. Buffy has taken to squeezing through the mesh and strolls up and down outside the pasture, where she can watch for me to come out with their evening treat. If she isn't in direct view of the gate from our yard adjacent to the house, she hears the gate open and comes to greet me. Usually, though, she's watching, eyes on the gate. She happily follows me with my basket of goodies to where I open the fencing and pops right in. At first she was out there at 5 p.m., the time I try to get out to corral them. Then she started getting out earlier. Yesterday she was out there at 3 p.m. I think she's just getting to like the idea of roaming about on her own. Also, one of the big Reds has started to join her from time to time. Before I know it the whole flock will be pecking at the front door (they could squeeze under the gate at this point).
I must mention the guineas. Of the original four keets (Guinea chicks), one died for some unexplained reason, fully grown, and one, while still too small to be out flying on her own, got into the woods and was taken, we think, by a hawk or coyote. Of the two remaining, one is a hen, named "Little Kevin," and the other a male, "Big Kevin." They do look a little like the prehistoric bird in the movie, UP. My granddaughter noted the resemblance. They are proving their worth as watch-birds. Their voices are loud and not too pretty - kind of like a goose with a cold, I say. They will kill snakes, of which we have in abundance around here, in case they threaten the chickens. They also keep one eye to the sky. If they see a hawk or a buzzard, they set up a screech, run-fly to the protected run with the chickens in hot pursuit. They pay attention to the guineas warnings, thank goodness. I've seen them in action, and it's a comfort. The strange thing is that guineas are notorious for being freedom-loving, are not usually easy to keep in confinement, and will roost in trees and fly into neighbors' areas. These two, I guess having been raised with chicks, side by side, have never even tried to leave the pasture and roost with the chickens at night.
I've been worried about six of my hens now that the nights have gotten down into the 30s. There is a heat lamp in the hen house, just to take the chill off and keep the hens' water from freezing (when it gets that low). These six are still sleeping on an outside roost, next to the hen house wall. I went online this morning to ask about that. It seems that even in really cold areas, they will be fine as long as they are out of the wind. So, I need to put up a canvas or plastic barrier along the outside of the run at least large enough to give them protection.
I'm learning something every day about my feathered children. They serve to keep my mind occupied with simple, old-fashioned labor and I love the doing of it.
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