Profile: Athena

Athena is back at home.  She was loaned out this summer to raise some babies.

Athena and her sister were hatched last year and raised by a Silkie hen (they were the White Chocolates).  They turned out to be not quite leghorns- white, quite differently shaped from leghorns, but a little jumpy and high-strung like leghorns are. Early this summer, both of them went broody, but not at the same time.  Athena’s sister (Aphrodite?) raised a mixed set of five.  She abandoned them early, leaving the nursery coop to go sleep in the main coop a little before they were ready for her to do that, but they had each other, and were fine.

I had a friend ask for chicks, and the only way I could see to do that was to deliver them in the egg, with a chicken attached.  Athena was the only one setting at the time, so she was the only option.

Full turkey

This poor family got their first broody hen and hatch experience with the worst-tempered, most bloody minded broody hen I have ever had.  She terrorized them all, glaring balefully in a good mood, attacking viciously if anyone had the nerve to feed her.  They wore leather gloves to interact with her, and that was appropriate.  They named her Athena (I think they meant Artemis). She was horrible!

She spent her entire time, even after the chicks were all hatched,  puffed out in aggression.  On one hand, this meant she’d be a good mother, fiercely protective, but it wasn’t exactly a cozy and sweet introduction to chickens.

She raised seven chicks, and when they were done with her (and the people were really done with Athena), I picked her up in the night.  I was driving by after chicken bedtime, so I just grabbed her out of the coop and set her on my lap, and she rode home like a pet.  I popped her into the main coop where she’d always slept in before.The next night, I found her nervously prancing around the retiree’s coop, which I had already closed.  Do you want to go sleep in that coop?!  I opened it, she ran right up the ramp.  Ok then.  The chicken knows what she wants.

I noticed her all over after her return.  For one thing, she was as slim and sleek as anything, every feather in place.  She had one grease mark from being under one of their cars before leaving, but it didn’t take long to be able to tell her apart from her sister.

She runs everywhere she goes.  There is no stroll, lope, or walk.  Dart here, dart there.  She’s the last to bed, but unlike the “normal” hens who mosey to bed, already half in a dream trance, Athena would suddenly look up from active pecking in the feed tray, turn and run up the ramp to bed.  She’s a heavy walker.  She’s small, but I can hear her running me down on the trail.  Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump!

She’s working on being a troublemaker, too.  She’s started taking a copycat interest in the house, she’s figured out how I open the GH door for the guineas and gets in there for a quick scratch before bed, and when I discovered a chicken had been up in my window box scratching it up, I thought it could only be Nosey.  Because.

Then I caught Athena in the act last night.  I don’t even know how she jumps up there.

First Frost

Got a serious frost last night, and a warning frost the night before.  There was ice crusted on the water in the stock tank, and the sweet potato vines were finished off.  The squashes themselves took  damage, which is very disappointing.

Not the worst thing to have to can pumpkin, but I like to have squashes and pumpkins throughout the winter for the chickens.  Bummer!

Also today; world climate strike.  I hope the message is deafening, because the increased storms and fluctuating temperatures and melting ice caps haven’t been loud enough, apparently.

 

How to stand with young climate strikers

The latest chicks

I had a whole passel of Silkies go broody this summer.  Some of them give up, two more go broody.  The usual, in other words.  I’m not letting them reproduce this year- I have so many Silkies.  I did give them five of Cheeks’ eggs between them though.

Drama central!  If any of them stood up to adjust themselves, another one would rob an egg.  Every morning most of them would go out for breakfast, and then there would be lamentations when they came back and their eggs had been swiped by another hen.

With all this egg roulette, it’s a wonder any hatched- they were a little too well attended.  By luck of the draw or else quiet persistence, this one brown lady had the eggs on hatch day.  Two hatched, and one died, and then another hatched late.  Phew!  I’m awfully glad there’s two, because chicks do so much better when they have siblings.
Mama is SO relaxed, and just because it’s so easy to do, I’ve popped them into the greenhouse.  At night I collect them in their cardboard box and lock them into a coop, and in the morning I slide them out, peeping out of their mom’s fluff at me, and I carry the box into the GH, where they spend the day without any conflict, competition, or threats.This is the summer of Cheeklings. Last summer was a raft of Puffcheeks’ offspring, and now all those Pufflings are grownups, sitting on sawhorses and laying eggs.  This year, when Cheeks recovered and started laying eggs again, I promptly set all of them under hens, to save Cheeks’ legacy.  Now I have lots of them.  Seven?  Of course some will be roos, and some look less like Cheeks than their father, but I should have some Jr. Cheeks hens.

Greenhouse goings-on

Earlier this year in the greenhouse.

Now it’s a little wilder.  Even at this point, though, the guineas were getting lost.  The “aisles” have kind of disappeared.  I went  to open the far doors, and there was a white guinea in the melons.  Chirp chirp.  Her boyfriend came back in for her, bushwhacking towards her to lead her out.

I have a theory that the guineas have kept down the beetles this year.  I don’t have a problem this year, although I saw eggs on the leaves earlier.  I also saw the guineas pecking the leaves on their evening browse.  I think they might have been doing a daily cleanup.

The guineas are adorable.  They gather at the door at night, and when I open the door, they file right in.  This is where we sleep. They go for a browse and then perch on their swing.  If I’m too late, the seventh gives up on me and sleeps somewhere else.

I have late blight, bummer, but still plenty of tomatoes coming.  I canned 17 quarts yesterday.

Also yesterday, I turned the water on in the greenhouse, forgetting that the two new chicks and their Silkie mama are housed in there.  Some of the joints and holes in the tape spray water in jets, so it might have been an exciting moment, when the sprinklers came on.

These lucky chicks are so late in the year, and with a Silkie mom that is not nearly as destructive as a big chicken,  that they get to have the GH all to themselves to grow up in.  I get lazy late  in the year, and they are happy and safe in the jungle.

Nosey is auditioning for role of house chicken.

Nosey the Nosy thinks that I have a chicken-shaped void in my life, and she’s the chicken to fill it.
I see that you don’t have a house chicken at the moment.  I’d like to leave my resumé.

It’s true, it’s been a long time since Cheeks moved out.  Nosey has an unusual degree of interest in the house.  With the door always open and the screen on, she spends a lot of time standing on the threshold looking in.And riffling the screen with her beak.I know this opens somehow! 

She work from one side to the other, worrying it.  She hasn’t figured it out yet though.

——–

Until the day a screen magnet snapped to the door, holding the screen open. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, Hello.

She strolled around the mud room for some time, inspecting, looking around. The “up” things were really interesting.   As were the knots in the wood.

I let her be.

I was walking back and forth to the door, and she’d look at me and walk towards the door (I was just leaving!), then watch me, and seeing I wasn’t actually shooing her out, turn around and resume inspection (Well in that case I don’t mind if I stay).  Who says chickens aren’t smart.

Inspecting the boot tray.

She stayed in the mud room, just peeking into the house.

Baby Nosey.

 

Tomato canning

A lovely pile of a wide range of tomato varieties.  I have late blight now in the greenhouse (what the?  It’s not damp), so the harvest may turn out to be smaller this year than usual, but any reduction isn’t showing yet.

Three bread bowls of tomatoes today is the second haul harvested, and now the cauldrons boil and bubble.

Profile: Nosey

All chickens have their own unique chickenalities, but some chickens distinguish themselves more than others.  Nosey has been her own bird from a young chicken, and unlike everyone else, is rather tame.  She got her name from always being excessively interested in my business, and always really into being near me.  She’d be the first at the door, have her beak up in whatever I was doing, sit on my shoulder, and generally tag along or be underfoot.She’s all grown up now, and her first adult summer has seen her create some real habits of behaviour.  She’s still excessively interested in my movements, popping out of nowhere anytime I come out the door, following me down paths, literally underfoot all the time, as I frequently trip on her or accidentally kick her while walking, as she darts in front of or between my swinging feet.When I prepare their food, stirring water into the bucket, all the hens gather and stretch their necks over the edge, but Nosey runs laps around the bucket, then stands on top of my feet to stretch over the edge of the bucket.  Then she follows me to platter after platter as I fill the “trough”s, and dives into each one, then darts to catch up with me at the next serving, as she has to be the first beak in.  Sometimes she’ll follow me all the way back to where I put the bucket away at the end of lunchtimeShe walks with me like a dog heeling, right next to me on the trail, and her pace is a little faster, so she’ll get ahead of me, then pause for me to catch up, then walk right next to me, get excited and get ahead, then pause again.  I’ve never had a chicken do something like this before.  It’s very pet-like, very trying to please, or connect.

She’s very interested in the house, hopping up and watching me through the screen when the door is open.  She just seems more connected to me than she is to the other chickens, although she’s part of the main “hangs out around the house during the day” chickens. 

She’s the only one that allows me to touch her, and I do almost every day, stroking her chest.  She gets all uncomfortable about it and it’s clear she doesn’t like it, but she lets me.  The other hens will leap and squawk when I try a stunt like that.

When other people say pretty much anything starting with “There’s this one chicken”, I know they mean Nosey.
“This one chicken is out here looking in my boot!”  Nosey.
“There was one chicken that came right up to me”.   Nosey.

I heard this one go down:  My husband was outside, and from inside I heard his yelp, and then indignant complaining out loud.  His tale of woe – he was standing outside, eating an apple, pensively watching the chickens, and as he stood between bites, with his arm relaxed at his side, “this one chicken” leapt up and knocked the half eaten apple out of his hand.

Of course, Nosey had the apple.

chicken drill bit

The Silkies have picked a spot to dig a hole, and are digging the hole with their bodies, removing the dirt in their feathers and shaking it out elsewhere.  Slow and steady.

They take turns, and now they have the hole twice as deep as this, so that they are fully below ground level. Odd little birds.Sidewinder unwinding in the pool. I haven’t bought them a bag of pro-mix outside of the greenhouse before because in the greenhouse, they are doing the work of distributing it for me to amend the soil I will grow in, but hey.  They need a bath in the summer too, what’s one bag of mix?   They enjoy it so much. 

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