But not three.
But when I do, it’s a waltz.
After the frost we’ve had a warm spell, and the bees are going so hard. It’s their last charge to get their stores in. I feel bad now taking their honey, but they have more than enough, at least the big hives Pansy and Violet do.The other pollinators in the giant wasp nest have made their home bigger than ever. I’m terrified of them, although they’ve only stung me once, for banging on the wall, and I am looking forward to a long wasp-free future.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
They like this spot.
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.