The Broody Bunch

Today is a sad day.  Leann is no longer with us.  She died this morning.

There was no warning.  There was no sign of illness.  This morning I went out to open the hatch into the run as I do every morning.  Everyone ran outside while I checked their water and food.  I picked up Reba because she’s always at my feet and loves to be patted and cuddled.  Then a commotion out in the run caught my eye.  Leann had fallen down and was stretching out her neck with her beak open wide.  It almost looked like she was choking.  Then she convulsed and flipped over on her back.  She was gone just like that.  I took her out of the pen right away so the other chickens wouldn’t molest her.

The kids are mildly sad.  They understand death and want to bury Leann in the backyard.  I think I’m having a harder time with it because I take care of the chickens.  Did I do something wrong?  Could I have prevented this?  Is there a threat to the other chickens?

I’ve already emptied the coop of old shavings and put down fresh, clean shavings.  I cleaned the waterer and re-filled it.  I went into the run and found some things that the chickens had unearthed that could be harmful if it was ingested.  I removed them and will be checking frequently.

Death leaves a dark, morose feeling that lingers in the atmosphere like the rain clouds that we’ve had to deal with for two weeks now.  The seven day forecast is more rain.  I knew that fatalities were a real possibility when I got my chicks.  I’ll have to accept it and move on.  It would just be easier if I had some sunshine.

Dapper’s relationship with the chickens is still unsettled.  He’s very happy that they are no longer in the house.  (Although he found chicken droppings to be a tasty treat.)  He no longer has to be gated into just one room anymore and he doesn’t suffer fits of anxiety when a chick abandoned her brooder.  Dapper is the only pet in the house again and he gets all the attention.  Good or bad.

When we go to the coop, Dapper hates to be left out.  At first I wasn’t sure how he’d react to eight chicks running helter-skelter around him but I couldn’t bear his whining for long.

I opened the door to let Dapper in.  Immediately he ran to my side, tail wagging, and sat down.  I wondered how long it would take for the chicks to notice him and what Dapper would do about it.  It wasn’t long.

At times a chick would get close to the dog.  Dapper would stretch out his neck to nose the chicken.  Often the chick would turn to face him, nose to beak.  Then she’d turn and run off.

After a little while, Dapper got brave and would take a step or two to sniff at a chick.  That’s when the trouble started.

A chickens number one preoccupation is finding food.  She spends most of her time eating, scratching, pecking and chasing bugs.  So when Dapper stood up, his floppy, long-haired ears just looked like so many worms that the chicks couldn’t resist.  They flocked him, pulling strands of hair on his ears.  This surprised him and then POW!  He was pecked right on the nose!

After that, Dapper was very careful to keep his face hidden behind someone’s legs.  Soon, he gave up and asked to leave the coop.

I guess Dapper has a healthy understanding of what being “hen-pecked” means now.

(The picture shows Dapper’s surprised expression with his ears standing straight up after being pecked by the Leghorn.)

It’s raining again.  It has been for two days now.  And it’s supposed to keep raining for another two days. I find it so hard to be productive when it’s rainy.  Especially because all I really want to do is curl up with a cup of coffee and a good book!

Well, these are some things that I need to do.  Maybe seeing them in black and white will give me some incentive.

• Put away massive amounts of laundry
• Unpack the kids’ suitcase.  (Just returned from Grammy’s)
• Re-organize the toy room
• Box up items for the yard sale.  (If we ever get some sun)
• Clean out my sewing room
• Knit some dish cloths.  (My supply has dwindled)
• Rearrange the kitchen

Maybe I should stop there.  That should be enough to get me through a few days.  Hmmmm… I wonder if I can really get it all done by Monday night.  Maybe if I can recruit a little help and have a full time cheering squad.  I’ll mark off things as I go.

June 22, 2009  Note:  Looks like the rain will continue through Wednesday now.  That’s an additional two days to the four days of rain we’ve just had.  I guess that gives me a bit more time to get things accomplished in the house.  I think we all feel like drowned rats around here…

I recently read a book called “A Small Farm In Maine” by Terry Silber.  This book was published in 1988 and, as the subtitle puts it, is about “how one couple built a self-sustaining life in the country.”

Terry and her husband, Mark, both worked and lived in Boston.  On a whim, they decide to buy an abandoned farm in Maine near Terry’s parents.  They fix up the farmhouse to make it inhabitable and visit every weekend to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

On discovering abandoned flower beds that still grew hardy perennials and learning about the history of their farm from the neighbors, Terry and Mark become curious about horticulture.  They ask questions about plants and gardens of their farming neighbors and read every piece of literature on the subject as they can find.  Eventually, with the help of friendly neighbors, they clear a piece of land on their farm and plant their first vegetable garden.

Even though Terry and Mark maintain their careers in the city, they become more and more interested in the lives of Maine farmers.  For several years the couple continue their weekend trips to Maine, finding the work on the farm a perfect balance to their work in Boston.

After the first year of gardening, where they have more crop than they can consume, preserve, and give away, Terry and Mark decide to join the local farmers at the farmers’ markets.  They are ecstatic to find that they can make money doing weekend farming!  They then start planning how to garden more efficiently, and put their city talents to work by designing a layout that will make their vegetable display look more attractive and by trying to market their produce.

Being looked on by some as “hippies” and “rich city folk”, not all of the local farmers like the radical ideas that the Silbers come up with.  The gap between the weekend farmers and the farmers that depend on their produce to support them through the long harsh winters can be larger than some would think.

Terry and Mark stick to their instinct and test new and unconventional methods.  These include growing more exotic vegetables and herbs for sale, making and distributing pamphlets on how to use those foods, and growing without the use of pesticides.  Growing strictly organically was virtually unheard of at the time and even considered risky.  But the Silbers’ personal convictions guide ever decision they make.

While Terry and Mark become more involved on the farm they become less satisfied with their work in the city.  Is it really possible to have a self-sustaining life on a farm in Maine?  The Silbers put the question to the test, crunch the numbers, and then, with sheer determination, make the permanent move to Maine.

The story continues with their first Maine winter, the physical and financial struggles, how Terry and Mark turn their small farm into a viable business, and the ins and outs of working relationships.

As I read Terry’s account of these many years of her life, I felt that I was a witness to how their business evolved over that time.  Starting as vegetable farmers, Terry and Mark finally settled their main business on growing everlastings, drying flowers and herbs, and selling decorative products made from the produce of the farm.

It was exciting to read about places so familiar to me like Lewiston, Auburn, Rumford, and Portland.  I jumped on the web to see if I could locate their business.  What fun to actually go visit a place that you’ve only just read about!  Sadly, I found that the Silbers’ farm in Sumner closed just three years ago in 2006.  Apparently, Terry Silber died of terminal cancer in 2003.  For over three years Mark continued the business on his own, taking on all of Terry’s responsibilities while also fulfilling equally important duties outside of the farm.  It just became too much for one person.

However, I feel as though I have gained tremendous knowledge and insight by reading “A Small Farm In Maine” and would recommend it to anyone who has a love for growing things!

It’s been the better part of a week since I first let the chicks out into their run.  Things have been happening so fast around here that I haven’t had time to write it all.

Last Saturday was the only warm, sunny day in the middle of several rainy days.  I hadn’t planned on letting the chicks into the run yet since they were still getting used to the coop as their new home.  But when I went to check on the chicks that morning, the coop was already quite warm and steamy.  So, I decided to open the hatch to the run to get the air circulating.  I sat down on the plastic feed box to see what the chicks’ reaction would be.

As soon as they saw the open door, the chicks all ran over to it to investigate.  No one was eager to be the first to explore.  The grass inside the run had grown up quite tall and it looked like a jungle compared to the size of my little chicks.

I was sure Dolly would be the first to step out into the wilderness.  As I watched I became more confident that she would lead the way.  While some of the others seemingly lost interest and went back to the feeders, Dolly hopped up onto the edge of the opening.  She stuck her head out as far as she could to see what she could see.  Soon she became engrossed in playing tug-of-war with a long blade of grass that hung into the coop.  While she and some of the others that joined her game were preoccupied, little Faith hopped up on the edge of the door casing and then jumped down into the grass.

Immediately there was a whole world in front of her filled with bugs!  Soon Faith had the attention of all the other chickens who, one by one, joined her in the hunt for bugs.  The leghorns, who are always the bravest, made their way out into the tall grass.  The RI Reds were shy at first.  Some of them would jump into the grass and then jump back into the coop several times until they were sure enough of themselves and their surroundings.

At dusk, when I went out to close their hatch, all of the chicks were already inside the coop and bedded down for the night.  Instinct told them what to do and where to go.

In the mornings now, they all gather in front of the hatch and wait for me to open it.  Then there is a great flutter of wings and a whirlwind of feathers and shavings as each chick rushes to be the first one out the door!

There are several worn paths in the tall grass now.  The slug and mosquito population has diminished.  And my chickens are getting fat and happy.  What a life!

I was enjoying a quiet evening reading a fabulous book I borrowed from the library (more on that later), when a strange “thump” came from the window.  Little Maiden’s sun catcher that she made in Sunday School swung mysteriously on the inside of the window.  Immediately I knew that some poor bird had just knocked herself silly on my reflective window!

Sure enough.  When I stepped out on the porch, I saw a tiny bird sprawled upside-down on my porch.  I stooped to see if she was still alive.  I saw that she was breathing rapidly so I gently put my hand out to help her right herself.  As soon as I touched her she flapped and turned over.  She seemed dazed and was holding her beak open to breathe.

I hurried for my camera and started taking pictures.  She was such a pretty little bird and it’s so rare to see one so close.  She was smaller than a chickadee and was mostly gray, white, and black.  But she had a brilliant yellow cap and yellow on her wings that contrasted sharply with her black beak and beady eyes.  She also had a reddish-brown stripe that ran down both sides of her white belly, just under her folded wings.

I wanted to give her the best chance for recovery and I knew the porch was not the best place to leave her.  So I gently nudged my finger under her feet.  She picked up one foot and grasped my finger and then the other foot.  She was holding her left eye closed.  She must have had a monstrous headache in that tiny head!

The bird made no move to fly away so I took her to our flowering crab apple tree.  I tried to place her on a twig but she faltered.  She fluttered and clung to leaves until at last she settled on the tree trunk.

I called my mother for advice.  She’s nursed poor little senseless birds before.  We decided that my little bird would probably be okay.  Ten minutes later she was still on the tree.  Twenty minutes after that she was gone.

Mom and I spent several minutes on the phone trying to determine what kind of bird she was.  Mom’s first guess was a Warbler.  She was right!  By comparing my pictures to others on the internet, I’ve found that my little bird was a Chestnut-sided Warbler.

The chicks are really liking their new space.  They have plenty of room to run around and play games or chase bugs.  They’ve also fallen into a daily routine.

Now that the chicks are outside, it has become more exciting to go see them.  Every morning Young Master and Little Maiden beg to go with me to check on the chicks.  The short walk from the front door to the coop is like a field trip.  The kids race to see who can get there first.  GH put locks on the tops of the doors to keep the chickens protected from irresponsible children and clever raccoons.  So by the time I get to the coop Young Master and Little Maiden are jumping  up and down with excitement!

By now, the chicks expect to see me around the same time every morning.  They will lay in front of the door, peeking through the cracks to watch for me.  They know that they’ll get more food when I arrive.

The chicken coop is amazingly cozy.  I never thought that the tool shed would bring such comfort to me.  It really has become one of my favorite places to be.  I find it relaxing to sit and watch the antics of my birds.  It’s a place where I can come together with my kids and God’s creation in a sort of harmony that’s not forced or fake.  It’s a place where my mind feels clearer and a place where memories are captured.  Truth be told, even the sweet smell of chickens and pine shavings has a certain draw for me.

Call me weird, but I think I was born for this.

P.S.  Two exciting things happened today!  We harvested our first four radishes from the garden and Young Master lost a tooth!

I didn’t sleep well last night.  I was more worried than I thought about the chickens’ first night in their coop.  I kept waking up and looking out the window to see if their light was still on and if there were any predators lurking in the shadows.  I wondered if they were warm enough or if I should have put their light closer to the ground.

I was in the coop first thing this morning!  The chicks had all gotten back into their brooder under the light to stay warm for the night.  They didn’t seem distressed at all.  I checked the food and water.  All was well!  And there wasn’t one mosquito left in the place!

Maybe I’ll sleep better tonight.

On a side note, GH shot a rabbit that was in the yard today.  It sounds sad but he may have just saved my garden!

I didn’t really want to do it, but it was time!  We moved the chicks outside to their coop today.  The reason?  Two words.

Chicken poop.

I mentioned before that the chicks had started roosting on the edge of their brooder at night.  It was okay as long as their backside was hanging over the inside of the box but most often they would face the inside.  So, in the morning there would be a ring of chicken poop on the floor around the brooder.

You know, I could handle that to a point.  At least all of the droppings were localized in one area, but then the chicks started taking over!  They wouldn’t stay in the box during the day anymore.  At any given time we had one to three chicks wondering around the kitchen.  Then I was cleaning up the floor every five minutes!  I was getting pretty fed up with it and GH put his foot down!  (Not in chicken poop, thankfully.)

We spent a good part of this evening chicken proofing the coop.  We secured the run and tightened up the coop some.  I put shavings on the floor.  Then we moved the chicks out, brooder and all.  We put their light back up to keep them warm during the night.  I gave them fresh water and filled their feeders.  (I got an extra one from Willhi.)

It didn’t take long for the chicks to warm up to their new space.  The mosquitoes made it all worthwhile for them!  The chicks were running, jumping, and fluttering all over to catch them.  Then the chicks started picking all the spiders and bugs off the walls and out of the webs.  When we left them for the night, they were all busy and happy!

I was finally able to clean up the floor and rid the kitchen of most of the chicken dust.  It’s nice to have my kitchen back, but it sure is quiet in here now!

Dolly has become quite a dominant personality in our house lately.  Being that she is the largest and the most developed of the chicks, she figured out what her wings are for first.  Initially, she was the first to get out of the brooder.  Then she decided that since she could, she would start roosting on the edge of the box when it was nap time. 

Dolly has also taken a keen liking to Young Master.  She was the first to eat out of his hand.  She hops up on the edge of the box to be close to him when he stops by the brooder. 

But today beat all!

I have my computer set up in the kitchen and Young Master, being a product of GH, is a computer geek.  He enjoys playing computer games whenever he gets the chance.  As he was playing his game this afternoon, Dolly fluttered up onto the edge of the box to be close to him.  Then she took courage and flew onto his shoulder!  It shocked Young Master, who called for me to come rescue him from his attack chicken.  Instead, I grabbed the camera!

After taking several photos of Young Master with is chicken/parrot, I placed Dolly back in the brooder.  She promptly jumped up and flew to his shoulder again.  I, again, placed her back in the brooder.  Then I got my camera ready and was able to catch her in flight the next time!

It was shocking the first time, funny the second, and even funny the third and fourth.  Now it’s just annoying.  Dolly will fly onto anyone who’s sitting at the computer now.  She’s flown onto my shoulder three times now since I’ve started this post.  She’s asleep in my lap now.  If it wasn’t for the chicken droppings, I’m sure she’d sleep in my bed!