The hens are perching in the pine tree- hilARious! They’re so implacable and smug up there. Yep, we’re totally real birds.
The former Oreos are officially massive. They’ve turned out to be much if not mostly Copper Maran. Both very handsome. This will will my new big boss rooster. Provided he can figure out how to mate the ladies. He’s been having some issues.
Here’s guinea mama, and her chicks peeking out from behind her tail. They’re hard for me to see, every day – their natural protective camouflage while they are small.They she goes, erupting like the Hulk (only very, very quickly). Think you’re going to look at my chicks?!
I made a big ramp with a board, not that I really expect them to come walking down the ramp, and more importantly, piled hay all over the ground and especially over the feet of the coop, where I expect the chicks to all plummet to earth.
Then I carefully removed the screen door, slowly backed away, and plunk! A chick fell out. It bounced and rolled in the hay and got stuck face down. I set it on its feet and Oh no! Another neurological disorder. Its head was all floppy and it couldn’t stand right. I snatched it up and held it, and carried it around for a bit.
It wobbled around a bit and then seemed to figure out which way was up and how to stand. I set up camp to watch the rest exit the coop, wanting to be on hand for any rescues. The chick in my lap turned into a ball of energy, scampering up my arms, down my shirt, so I set it on the ground, and it ran around in tight circles. Very quickly. What is wrong with these chicks?
It ran in circles like it was on a three inch picket, zoom zoom zoom, until it fell over, then got up and did it again. Circles, circles, circles, peeping. Then it ran a little bit in a straight line (phew!) Circle, circle circle…straight line! Like it had to get wound up and then shot out of the centrifugal force. Fall over, repeat. The cocks came running over to the chick, and the chick tried to respond, running into their feet, and finding comfort in them, ceasing to peep for its mother, and following them around. In circles.
Meanwhile, I waited for the hen and her chicks to come out of the coop. And waited. And waited and waited. And some more.
One of the cocks started jumping up on the coop, and going into it, then coming out, jumping down, and doing it again. He was pretty obviously trying to talk her out.
He’d jump up, stand by the door, look or go in, linger, jump down, and immediately start long necking up at the coop before jumping back up. Repeat.
Sometimes she would come to the door, sometimes chicks would come to the door, but they weren’t uncoordinated enough to fall out.
Dozens of times he did this trip, up and down, up and down. Come on out of there!
Ultimately she came out when I wasn’t looking and left the chicks behind, huddled and peeping in the far corner. I went to scoop them out and she flew at me like a launched missile. I put on Carhartts and safety glasses and tried again. There were five little chicks in the coop, plus the dizzy one, and two lay dead among the 14 unhatched eggs (wow, she was sitting on 23 eggs!).
I can’t tell how many chicks in total from both hens, because the chicks tumble around in the grass. There’s a lot! Vertigo chick integrated into the group even before its mom emerged, but it was always getting left behind. The others would drift off, and it would look up, find itself alone, and then peep! zoom around in circle, and then shoot out straight for a few feet, trying to catch up. I felt sorry for it, running 3x as far as any of the others and always a bit behind. But it was managing.
The orphaned guinea chick in the infirmary is possibly improving. It’s gained enough motor skills to control its head and it comes out from under the wing on its own and toddles around.
It has the strength to struggle against being held, but can barely walk.
It’s also very good at getting into scrapes, finding somewhere to get stuck upside down or jammed into, shivering. I’ve rescued it from the edge of death a few times, forcing it to have a sip of water and then tucking it back under a wing. The Silkies are so tolerant. She’s on her eggs, she doesn’t care about any additions. Funny that one of the Silkie hens was once a resigned warming oven to the guineas that are adult now.
It’s so cute! I’m caring for it, making it drink and trying to make it eat baby mash of ground up seeds and applesauce, but there’s really no endgame for this chick. It won’t make it without parenting, and it’s highly unlikely to catch up to be able to keep up with all of its siblings as they travel along. Maybe though; I’m surprised every time I find it still alive.
Paranoid about the tragic loss of Blondie mom, I got downright defeatist over the disappearance in the morning of a guinea cock. What the? A guinea cock? It must be a raptor, snatched him off the coop. What am I going to do, sit out there all day with a rifle? Predator problems, just as the guineas are hatching!?
Inside the sky coop, there are chicks. I can’t tell how many! Five?
Psycho cobra mom hurls herself at the screen, and the little chicks who sometimes peek out the screen door scurry to the back of the coop, so I don’t know how many there are.
I’ve been nudging bowls of food and water inside the door, and mom doesn’t care why I’m reaching in, she means to take my arm off for it. Beak to arm: whackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhack!
Three times a day, so no one gets dehydrated. When they’re empty, I hear her pecking and clanking the dishes together in there. Sounds like a busy diner.
I quickly learned to tie a string onto the bowls so I can pull them back out instead of reaching in for them.
She’s got no problem eating the food, once I back off, but cut me a break for the delivery? No way!
The guinea cocks gave away the hatching. When we first saw the telltale eggshell, we both said “I knew something was up!” For the previous two days, the three guinea cocks were extra attached to the coop. Sitting on the roof, looking in, even in the middle of the day. I think they were excited. They haven’t stopped, they are animated and keeping close to the new mom.
What’s this? The guineas were hollering, as they do, and it was sustained, long enough for me to check on them, and I go and Oh! There he is, coming out of the woods. I count, yep, three… wait… I count again. Four. I check that the screen door isn’t breached. Four!
No way! The hen that disappeared two months ago is marching out of the woods, just like I hoped! With her proud and loud escort, klaxoning the whole way. He was missing half the day because he went to walk her home, and the others stayed with coop mom! I’m sure that the cocks have always known where she set, and have been regularly visiting her her whole term.
But does she have chicks?
There she is, very furtive, and yes, there are chicks! At least two!
She spent all that time, all those rainstorms, no shelter. No snack boxes. She’s not even acting ravenous.
A triumphant homecoming for the Lady of the Woods. She came right back to the old digs, hanging around under the sky coop. The guineas are very familial. The cocks are very much part of the parenting team.
The chicks are so tiny it’s hard to believe they’re making woods treks already. They tumble out of the grass and then toddle back in, and don’t stay right with mom. They’re comfortable getting a ways away.. They are very quiet peepers, unlike a chicken chick that will get piercing (they make up for that later in life).
Also, the attack mom is even more terrifying when she’s not in a box. She charges like a bull, with no fear. The wings go up in this flat fronted wall of feathers, and then the red mouth open, and worst, the crazy look in her eye, coming at you!
I dared to walk within 8 feet of her brood and got run at.
Tomorrow, I will open the door to the sky coop, and let them all out into the world.
The guinea hen was sitting on her eggs! But was she setting? Or just laying an egg?
If it´s the former, there might be a couple chicks in there, because of the hen who lays in there (cuckoo, cuckoo!)
The two boys were on the roof, raising hell. Screaming in a way that drew me to check if anything was wrong. Crazy raise-the-roof-alarm yelling.
She´s sitting on eggs! She´s sitting on eggs! She´s sitting on eggs! Sitting on eggs! On eggs! On eggs! ON EGGS! EGGS! EGGS!
Really, all the yelling about it seems maladaptive.
There she is in there, sitting on some eggs.
(She wasn´t setting, just laying one, probably).
Good, I need time to put a chick fence on the door. I didn´t think that through – a coop five feet off the ground – what if she hatches her chicks in there? They´ll fall out. I´ll have to block them in for a few days until they can do a controlled landing/flutter.