From City to Country Mother Clucker

Life has taken a complete 180 degree turn from where this Clucker Mother last left off. The last time you heard from me, I was still in the city, still fighting for the rights of Urban Chicken farmers in our town and enjoying making the most use out of a 40’ x 150’ piece of property that I lovingly referred to as my “postage stamp.” I was used to the sounds of sirens at all hours, people talking next door and needing to fight for that ever elusive parking place located on the street directly in front of my house. Lawn care took 30 minutes to mow, 20 minutes to trim (if I was particularly picky that day) and my feathered ladies had full run of a fenced in backyard that was gently shaded by a giant maple tree in the backyard. Wow, have things changed!

On July 16^th of this year, with the Chicken Debate still happening in the town I called home, I made a bid on a 5 acre piece of property in the town where I grew up. I never expected to have the winning bid and when the auctioneer shouted “SOLD!” I almost fell to my knees! I had told people my retirement plans were to eventually move to the country—looking towards the hills of the town where I grew up. Bam! On August 5^th, which was the day I closed, here I was—smack in the middle of what my dream was. Incredible help from friends helped me uproot myself from the urban life that I had known and move to a completely different change of scenery. One where, when I looked out my kitchen window, I saw only bean field, trees, and a wonderful pond that belongs to the neighbor I share a property line with – several hundred feet from my house. I now had outbuildings; a very large pole barn with three bays and a smaller, although wonderfully old, barn that once housed pigs from the previous owners. The house was not what I would have originally picked for myself, a three bedroom ranch-style home, but perfectly sized for one person and her crew of critters.  

Moving the Cluckers proved to be an interesting challenge and I’m sure not one that either of us want to have to do again for a very, very, long time. I still don’t have any idea how in the world the friends that I had help move the coop did it, but somehow the coop made it from my city home to the country virtually unscathed and intact. I’m guessing my home-built coop had to have weighed in at around 300 pounds. Knowing only enough to be dangerous about having poultry in the country, I kept the birds cooped up for the next two weeks—terrified that they would fall victim to a fox that had been sighted in the area and had already feasted on other neighbor’s birds. Finally, with both myself and the ladies getting increasingly frustrated, I created a make-shift pen for them so that they could at least get out and enjoy the grass that they had loved so much at the city home while I was outside with them. I knew that I would need to fashion a new chicken run for the girls, but for the moment—this would do just fine.

Fast forward to 8 weeks later and I’m still not unpacked, the chicken run still isn’t finished (although it’s at least been started), I don’t have all of the trash out of the barns yet and the feathered ladies have decided that as long as they’re being kept in a small area—they’re going to go on an egg laying strike. I’ve gained another kitten which brings my total animals to 10 now with one more barn kitty coming at the end of the month (welcome Sassy kitty!), but I wouldn’t change any of it. The peace that I feel when I drive up to the house is incredible each day and I can’t wait to get changed into grungy clothes and get to work doing chores. This City Clucker Mother has now become the Country Clucker Mother and these blogs will shift to lessons learned and found as I make the complete transformation from someone who was used to having everything within a couple miles distance to what is now referred to as the exciting “trip to town.”

Meeting Fellow Flockers

It's been a busy few weeks since my last entry. My Foster Flockers went to their new home in the country and are, as I understand, settling in quite well with the exception being that one of the little flockers has turned out to have more cockadiddle in his do than the others (I'll talk about that a little later) and I found out that there are others in my chicken loving world than I thought! People who seem to be just like me! I also have discovered that I have a hen that thinks she's experienced the immaculate conception and refuses to leave her nest and I've also discovered that there are people in the town that I live and love in that would rather me go somewhere else. Whew! That's a lot for this Mother Clucker!

I'm usually a very careful Mother Clucker. I make sure that the coop door is locked securely each night, keep the other residents in the household indoors at night and during hot days, lock my doors, use seatbelts, wear a helmet each time I go out and ride the bike... I'm usually very careful. This carefulness proved to be useless a couple of years ago when I was hit by a car while crossing a crosswalk while riding my bike. Since that day, I've enjoyed riding, but the fear of that accident just a few years ago still tends to haunt me when I go out. That is, until I discovered a bicycling group in town that rides in large numbers, occasionally visits one of the local breweries around town and has people that don't think that urban chickens are weird at all! Cool- right?

This new-to-me bike group met up a few weeks ago to paint a masterpiece at a local art locale in town called Tri State Artisans. You can find out more about them here: http://www.events.tsartisans.com/index.html. We painted a picture that featured a bicycle since it was during the month of May which is National Bike Month. Well, you know this Mother Clucker, I had to hen it up a bit and I painted chicken feet on my piece and added the words "Riding with my Chicks." Not one person at my table that evening made fun of my musings-- in fact, it opened the dialogue up to us talking about others, including several of the bike group, that owned chickens of their own. What a wonderful evening that was! We drank craft beers together, talked chickens, created art-- things couldn't get any more utopia!

My Finished "Masterpiece"

 The bicycling group meets every Tuesday evening and I haven't been able to join them again as often as I would like because of other commitments or weather, but I'm so glad to know that when I'm ready again-- they'll be there to welcome me and my love of all things fowl with open arms/wings.

"Turkey" at 12 Weeks Old

 



 

The saga with the chicken that looks like a Turkey and has the name "Turkey" continues. His new Feather Father mentioned to me a few weeks back that he was pretty sure that "Turkey" was a rooster since he had heard crowing in the early morning hours and was pretty sure that it was coming from the ever unusual young Flocker. The announcement also came with the promise that if he wasn't rehomed by the end of June-- he would be entering that big coop in the sky as he was unwanted in a group of hens. I went to work locating a new home for the fellow and then announced to his current owner that I would be moving the bird to this new locale. Well, things don't always go smoothly and now Feather Father isn't for sure that it is Turkey that's announcing the morning with such enthusiasm. No matter though-- I think I'll be rehoming the little Flocker anyway just so there's no chance he'll end up meeting the chopping block. Turkey will be moving to an even bigger and better Taj MaCoop that has fanatical owners that coddle and love their little flock of fowl. I think this Mother Clucker did quite well in making sure that he was well looked after. 

Poor "Turkey" won't be a normal bird ever, but I'm so grateful to know that his crooked foot, his crazy flippy feathers and his bizarre behavior is going to be looked at as something unique and wonderful in his new home. I still sometimes wish I would have kept him, but knowing what I know now that he's a he-- I'm glad I saved him and myself the headache of trying to keep a happy crower quiet in the early morning hours in town.

Acceptance is something that I've relished so much since owning the chickens almost a year and a half ago. This need for acceptance was never more evident than the City Council meeting I attended earlier this week. The town that I live in boasts being a very progressive, art-based town that attracts young professionals from areas around the United States and even around the world. People who come here come from towns like Chicago, IL, Austin, TX, and even Indianapolis. These towns all have ordinances that embrace and welcome urban chickens. My town is, unfortunately, often ran by old thinking and the fear of change. I watched, during the Council meeting, a group of people who didn't listen to what the public voice was saying and decided to vote with their own opinions-- deciding to ban all urban chickens in town. There are so many of us in this town that are heartbroken and disappointed in our town that we live in and love. The one bright spot is that the new ban has to face and be approved with a second reading and I'm hopeful that I will still be able to blog about my feathered flockers; Gertrude, Henrietta, Eleanor and Mildred and not have to end the story with "...and they went to a new home." It is cause for frustration and I'm hopeful that those that have enjoyed the girls' eggs, or their company, or just enjoyed them overall, will come in support to the next Council meeting to help them stay in their home. This Mother Clucker would be mighty clucking thankful.

 

Gertrude saying "Back Off!"

Speaking of frustration and on another note, I've experienced a phenomena that I only had read about. I have a hen that really thinks that she's sitting on a nest of eggs that will hatch into little flockers. There's just two problems; one, she doesn't have any eggs under her and two, even if she did, there is no rooster to make the new baby chicks. Of course, it's my favorite hen that's acting like she's lost her flocking mind and I've tried everything to get her to leave her little cozy spot in the henhouse to realize that she's missing out on all of the good bugs and grubs that have recently surfaced with the rain and heat. She's growled at me, glared at me, and even (I really can't believe this because she really is the sweetest and friendliest Clucker I have) PECKED at me when I went to clean the henhouse this past weekend. Yikes! I, of course, panicked at first that she wasn't eating or drinking since she was spending so much time on her nest but I've been told by others that I just need to wait it out and that she'll eventually move on from motherhood. I just need some peaceful things to start happening again so I gain that feeling of peacefulness that comes with having an urban homestead. 

My other hens have obviously already figured out the secret to joyful living because they like to dig little pits in my yard to stay cool and dust bathe. Maybe I should dig a little pit and roll around in it-- it seems to work for them!

 

 

Lost Flockers, Worms, Weed Killer -- Got them all!

It finally happened-- the Foster Flockers are now settled into their new home in the country with their Feather Father and this Foster Mama Clucker is learning how to learn to live life without them. As I predicted I did shed a few tears when I got them into their carrier, but their new Feather Father had no clue that I cried right before I pulled into the drive of their new home and after I was out of site of the house on the way home. Then, because I'm a sensitive Mama Clucker, I cried again the evening of their departure when I saw the empty Clucker Crate that I cleaned up quickly of stray bedding and insurmountable dust.

Fostering the Flockers was a difficult thing to do and I'm now just letting myself have a few days of hiding out and staying away from people for a little bit. I'm trying not to bother their Feather Father too much with checking in on the little birds and I'm trying not to worry when storms blow through and I think of them outside, huddled in their new digs. It's more dangerous in their new home too, lots of things wanting a free chicken dinner at any opportunity; foxes, coyotes, and hawks to just name a few of the things on the constant prowl. I hope that their Feather Father takes his new parenting duties seriously and the little birds thrive. The country, ultimately, is where they are the happiest and I raised them to be good little country Flockers.

Sadness of sending the Flockers home has given way to other distractions this past week, namely that now my house has pupa! Oh yes, you read that correctly-- I Have Pupa!

Mealworms



Pupa

Anyone who has read the "I Got Worms" blog entry, has learned about my attempt at wanting to grow mealworms on my own so that I could feed my adult Cluckers homegrown treats. You can read the blog entry here if you haven't already. Shock of all shocks, the mealworms that I purchased from the pet store have turned from the yucky brown squirmy maggot-looking creatures to the even more grotesque, Sigorney Weaver "Alien" pupa. Talk about gross! The pupa are white, small, and don't eat or drink. What makes them even more creepy is that they jerk when they move.

I've read that I need to remove these pupa from around their relative brown worm siblings because I guess once these "pupa" turn into the Darkling Beetle they turn Hannibal Lecter and cannibalize each other. 

It's amazing what you can find out from YouTube at 2AM when insomnia decides to show up.

 I'm not exactly a fan of touching insects-- the exception being catching fireflies on a summer evening to watch them flash for a few seconds before they unfold their cape-like black wings and fly off again. So, you can imagine my dislike at having to reach into the quick oats bedding and remove each little white, wiggling, pupa to put it into another oat bedding container for them to finish their morphing. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

I guess it'll take a few weeks before I start seeing the beetles so I have time to steel myself up for dealing with those things next!



Before Homemade Weed Killer



After Homemade Weed Killer

The other thing that happened this past week was that I discovered the best weed killer ever! The Cluckers have caused me to be a lot more conscious about what I put in and on my lawn and I searched the web looking for a homemade, natural, remedy that wouldn't hurt dog, cat, or bird and one that actually worked! I came across this video on YouTube (insomnia again a few nights ago) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdIuw_Gt58A and after I watched the woman test it out-- I had to try it for myself.

It actually works! Super easy, super simple and I don't have to worry about any critter making its way across newly sprayed, unwanted, weeds and it harming them. Who knew that 32 oz. of white vinegar, 1/4 cup of salt and a touch of Dawn could be so powerful?! Awesomesauce! If the rain ever stops around here, I'll have to spray the weeds that I missed and finally eradicate them from my patio-- but in the meantime, I like looking at the places where the unwanted plants were and realizing I was able to provide a solution that is only harmful to the thing that I'm spraying. Yay me!

It's been a busy, emotional week for sure and I'm still working on building the Koop 2.0 for the, one day, soon to arrive Lavender Orpingtons.

Several people have asked me if I ever slow down or ever take a break. Oh, I do, occasionally, but the fun isn't found in sitting on the sofa-- watching other people. I'm happiest working around and in the yard until the sun goes down and I can hardly see; the Cluckers happily cooing around my feet and my pups sitting quietly on the back porch.

This I love, if only it would warm up and warm up soon!

Getting the Flock Out

The week has finally arrived. This is the week that the foster flockers will go to their forever home at their Feather Father's house in the country. They've grown so much in even the past week; gaining all of their first feathers and losing the last of their down. The heat lamp that provided warmth and security to the little flockers for the first 5 weeks of their lives has been turned off for the past week and a half and they now go to sleep and awake with the setting and rising of the sun-- being helped somewhat by a blanket draped over their Clucker Crib to help block the noise and light that their Foster Mama and other house residents make into the hours of the night that ordinary birds are usually snuggled deep asleep.

Gone are the nights where peeping woke all of us at 2:30am and hushes were uttered (well, perhaps it was a little stronger than that) for the birds to settle down and rest. The Clucker Crib was a big adjustment to the birds just a few short weeks ago and now they've mostly taken up the space in the medium sized dog kennel-- constantly tipping over their waterer and soaking pine shavings that have to be changed out almost daily now so that they aren't standing in damp bedding. They are incredibly voracious eaters-- needing to have their pint jar feeder filled twice a day. They are growing up and the time has come for them to move on.

I've always looked at people who foster dogs and cats with awe how they are able to raise an animal and then let it go, seemingly without any tears or worry to a great new home. I've always avoided fostering-- fearing getting too close and wanting to keep the animal permanently. I'm learning that my fears were founded with this little flocker crew. It's going to be difficult to rise in the morning to not uncover the Clucker Crib and change the water and fill the feeder. I'm going to miss the little trills that the flockers make each day and their little personalities that are starting to show through even more now that they're moving from teenage flockers to young adult cluckers. It is three days from now that they go to their forever home and I have a feeling this is going to be difficult.

To keep my mind focused on other things than the departure of the feathered crew, I've started another building project, the Koop 2.0 or "Mini Koop" as I like to call it. I am still waiting on my two lavender orpingtons to arrive from the hatchery so I thought I would start to build a little home for these little ones before they arrived so that I won't have the stress of introducing very young birds to my established adult cluckers. I thought this build should be easier since it will be much smaller than my Taj MaCoop and instead of a peaked roof, this one has a slanted covering. Easy. Right? Uh, not so much.


Supporting posts on Koop 2.0

If you've read any of my other blogs, you know that I'm not comfortable with measuring and measurements. I have no idea what the problem is and why I can't seem to get it right, but this time-- I measured three times when I was building the roof for this Mini Koop. I put the boards into place to fit around the supporting post 2x4's and then lifted the finished roof frame to set it on top. Yeah, it didn't work at all! The first set of boards fit perfectly around the first set of supporting posts, but the second and subsequently the third were WAY off. Double cluck!

Needless to say, trying to finish fitting the roof frame required unscrewing the boards that I had worked so hard to set into place and re-setting them-- note to any potential diy coop builders out there, always use screws because they're easy to re-set when you make a goof! I did finally manage to get the roof on the supporting posts and the covering over the roof frame with the whole thing painted with primer/sealer before this next set of three rainy days. Three rainy days that give me more time to think about sending away the foster flockers.

I don't know if I'll cry when the little ones leave on Saturday, probably, dance with joy that I won't have to clean up bedding messes and the dust level won't have to be controlled on an hourly basis, also probably. All I know is that after Saturday the flock will be out and I'll look forward to my next adventure with new little flockers which should be happening in the next month or so. Until then, I'll keep building the new Koop and hope that maybe I'll finally get a measurement right--the first time.



The Koop Inspector, Henrietta

Go the Flock to Sleep

There is a wonderful storybook that has been written by author, Adam Mansbach, that looks very much like a children's book, but is most definitely written in frustrated parents' language wishing their children to stop delaying sleep and is called, appropriately, Go the F**k to Sleep.

After this past week with my foster flockers, I propose to change the title to better fit my situation; Go the Flock to Sleep. Four days in a row this past week, the little ones have woken at 4:00AM, waterer dumped and dry, food strewn every direction and peeping loudly. This activity, of course, wakes the other resident critters in this Mama Clucker's home and it means that I'm awake far beyond what I would like to be. I think that my coworker, who I share an office with, is probably beyond tired of hearing me say almost every day "I'm so tired."

I shouldn't only pick on the little flockers for my continuous state of hopeful slumber though; the weather has finally turned warm enough that I can start working in the yard again. I was so excited about the warmth that I've acted on my thought to build a coop for the two lavender orpingtons, that I'm still waiting on arriving, and my hope was that the foster flockers could maybe enjoy it before they head to their country home in little more than a week.

Kreg Jig in Action

If you have read my recount of building the first coop last year in another blog, you know it was quite the production and took many weeks longer than I thought it would and ended up being more expensive that I had planned. You can read about the build here if you wish. Most of this unknown expense came from lack of experience and I thought this go round I'd be able to put a new coop together quickly. After all, I was going to be making the coop smaller with a slanted roof and I had all of the tools at my disposal this time unlike before. No more needing to use a jigsaw to cut 2x4s (you builders out there are probably laughing at that thought, but hey-- it worked!), I have the most wonderful joining tool available-- a Kreg Jig, and I actually have a circular saw this time.

I confessed my need for devouring chicken last week and this week I'm going to confess something else. I've already built a wonderful, sturdy-so-far, Taj MaCoop with nesting boxes and a wonderful run. One would think that I can rattle off measurements like Bob Villa without hesitation and never get a measurement wrong after such a feat. Okay, this is a hard one to confess-- I can't read a measuring tape or ruler beyond knowing what the inch and 1/4, 1/2, and 3/4 marks are. It's not like I haven't tried-- my poor father tried one afternoon to get me to count off the marks in between those markings with their proper identifying measurements and I think I did have it for maybe 15 minutes and then it was gone. I've tried with YouTube videos to learn, friends have tried, it just doesn't happen. How do I manage? I find the marking that I know and then count the little marks after it or before it (depending on which is easier to remember).

So, imagine me reading the measuring tape as "this is 3 and 1/4 inches and two little marks after that." This is literally the phrase that goes through my head as I'm measuring the 2 x 4 and getting ready to make the cut. It's both sad and hilarious at the same time I think. Something must be working with that process however, I'm not having to cut two and three boards to try and get the right measurement for the piece that I need. I consider that a building success! Maybe there's still hope for me!

Crazy measuring technique aside, I started building the new Koop 2.0. I drew up the design that I thought I wanted and the frame went up rather quickly after I got the stud boards (I don't spend a lot on lumber and I'm a nightmare in Lowe's because I go through the pile of boards looking for the least bowed ones) painted and cut to the proper lengths. I've returned to working on the new coop every evening after work if the weather allows me to and it's been very kind for the past few days.

I'm excited about the freedom that this new Koop 2.0 is going to give me when the lavenders finally arrive. The temperatures by that point should be in the low to mid 80's when they are 3 weeks old, even in the evening, which means that the little flockers won't have to spend nearly the amount of time indoors that the foster flockers have and can move outside. Trust me, I know I've said it before, if you have chicks-- after they pass that three week old phase, you're ready for them to be outside!

Combine this new building activity with the daily care of the foster flockers, the adult cluckers, two dogs, two cats, and pond fish that now need food because the water temperature is warmer and it's no wonder that I just want to Go the Flock to Sleep at any one given moment.

Perhaps, in a few weeks after Koop 2.0 is finished-- I'll get to do just that.

Koop 2.0 shadowed by the Taj MaCoop

Admitting My Dark Side (or the Light Side as it were)

Most of my time the last few weeks has revolved around caring for the foster flockers that are still growing like crazy. The birds are now at the stage where it seems that they make a mess every few minutes, the feeder is constantly in need of filling and their waterer consistently looks like a wood chip cesspool. I'm very fortunate that the other residents here; dogs, cats, and adult cluckers are very forgiving that their Clucker Mother has been giving these temporary residents more attention than them as of late. I think they know that their mama is about at her wits end and ready for warmer weather so that these soon-to-be-rehomed-to-the-country cheepers can be given time outdoors and give everyone inside a break.

This spring has also been incredibly cold and it's amazing that the furnace is still running to keep everyone inside toasty warm. I was ready to remove the red heat lamp from the Taj MaCoop outside a couple of weeks ago when we had a few days of 70 degree plus weather, but so glad (and I'm sure the ladies are too) that I left it in place for now. We're all getting a little bit of cabin fever and just trying to maintain sanity until the days return to the warmth that will allow all of us to stay outside all day long. Having to spend most of my time indoors, I kind of feel like I could go all Jack Torrence, Jack Nicholson's character in The Shining, when he breaks through the door and says "Heeeeere's Johnny!"

While I don't see myself welding an axe any time soon and busting through doors, I do have a confession to make that has peaked over the past few days. Yes, this Clucker Mother does have a dark side. It's been going on for years and I feel compelled to finally admit it and just accept it for what it is. Are you prepared to hear it? Okay, here it goes: I. Eat. Chicken.

You read that correctly, I eat chicken. Yes, I raise them, name them, hug them, feed them treats, shelter them; but those birds who are raised elsewhere and happen to make it into the broiler or fryer-- I eat them. Shhh, don't tell the Cluckers! This was never more apparent to me than this past week when my hometown welcomed the Grand Opening of a Chick-fil-A restaurant.


My hometown is small, only about 35,000 residents, and when a large chain like C-f-A opens-- customers come out in DROVES to wait in line no matter how long it takes. I wasn't going to be a follower, I wasn't, but gosh-- when I drove past the restaurant on the night of the day that they opened and saw that the line was less than 100 feet long, I caved. Now before some of you start judging me for supporting an establishment that hasn't exactly been popular with the less conservative crowd, all I can say is that their chicken is glorious! I don't know what they do to it, but it is real chicken and those waffle fries and the Chick-fil-A Sauce?! What the cluck?!?!

I admit it, I participated in the first evening of opening day for the restaurant and happily turned the inside of my purple FIT into dining area extraordinaire. I did it, I ate the chicken and enjoyed every minute of it. Finishing this first meal, I made sure to hide all evidence when I got home so that the Lady Cluckers had no idea that I had eaten some of their kin (though knowing what I know now about chickens, they would have eaten them as well). I swore I wouldn't go back to C-f-A for a while and tried to justify my need for breaded poultry as a momentary weakness. That was, until the next day came and I drove past again around the dinner hour.

I'm a Clucker Mother for goodness sake and I not only ate dinner at the restaurant again that evening, but also for lunch the next day as well!! Double what the cluck?!?! Three meals in a row at the same chicken restaurant!!! I have a true dark side I guess (though I prefer the white side better) and I admit it.

I don't see myself ever turning on my resident cluckers, but I can't say that I won't return to the house of glorious chicken any time soon and I still have frozen chicken tenders in my freezer and a few containers of shredded chicken in a can stored in my kitchen pantry. What can I say, I'm a hypocrite. I thought my raising chickens would cause me to become a tree hugging vegan, but all that's happened is that I still hug trees, but eat those chickens who don't have names and that I don't know personally. I feel like a barbarian, but don't ask me to stop enjoying the fried goodness any time soon. I know it won't be long before I enter the line again -- I admit it.

Just don't tell the Cluckers!

Fledgling Little Cluckers

Although I've yet to receive the two lavender orpington chicks that I will be raising and then keeping for my own, I've enjoyed getting to watch my foster cluckers grow and develop into little fledgling flockers. Last year, I missed out on about 4 weeks of development with my adult ladies but this go around I'm getting the full experience with these little ones. I'm wowed by the fact that I've had these little ones for three weeks already and we're halfway to the final move to Feather Father's home in the country.

This past week was a big week for the foster flock-- they experienced their first move. I noticed that the little flockers were wanting to move further from the red heat light in their crib and how tight living quarters were getting for them. It was definitely time for a change. The fledgling flockers would be moving from the clucker crib, which they had called home since they were just a few hours old, to a more appropriate teenage Clucker Crate.  The experience I had last year with my current adult lady cluckers helped make this smooth transition to a new and larger home for the ever growing, ever moving, ever feathering crew. 

Last year for my chicks I used a medium sized wire dog crate, that I was no longer using for my furred crew (I'm not all about the cluckers, mostly), and cut pegboard (left over from another household project) to fit around the bottom 6 inches of the enclosure. I remember thinking how clever I thought I was to put that barrier up to keep the bedding in place. I figured there would be no mess at all!

Now, I know those of you who have raised chicks indoors to adulthood or currently have chicks that have entered 3 weeks of age and older are laughing at what my thought used to be. It amazes me how much the cluckers enjoy scratching in the bedding and watching it fly! They start to learn what a "dust bath" is; sideling their little fluffy bodies into the bedding, flapping their little wings like crazy and making an absolute cloud of dust containing dander, pine shaving bedding and goodness knows what else! This is why I had/have air filters running constantly. What the cluck!

After being a good chick-raising Clucker Mama last year, and my ladies had moved outdoors to their Taj MaCoop, I had folded up the crate and put it in the basement; dismantling the pegboard barrier pieces gently-- somehow wisely knowing that I might just use it, though pretty sure that I was just collecting more junk in an already full cellar. Looks like my naïve former self really knew that I was a true Clucker Mother. 

I retrieved the Clucker Crate from my basement and reassembled the pegboard base barriers, using zip ties to hold them in place. Next was pine bedding poured onto the pan of the crate, then the red heat lamp turned on which was hanging inside so that it would start to warm up the bedding before the chicks were moved. These steps accomplished, my next step was to gently remove the little ones from the only home that they had known since they hatched just three weeks ago.

Boy! Did I really get called a Mother Clucker in chick language as I caught and picked up the cluckers a couple at a time and moved them from their cramped quarters to their new digs! They were definitely not happy about the change! They must take after their foster Mama Clucker, I'm uncomfortable with change too!

Once in their new Clucker Crate, the little flockers huddled in a back corner the same way they did when they arrived three weeks ago; cheeping loudly and making a complete mess of the water in their purple waterer as they stirred up pine shavings in their new home. I stood nearby and watched the commotion rise and then slowly dwindle as the little ones discovered that they had more space to stretch their wings and actually move about their new home. They began scratching at their food, dipping their little beaks in the waterer for a drink and then started exploring again. They seemed to be very happy to have more room to flap their wings, run around like crazy cluckers and even challenge each other in bouts of who had the biggest wing flap or cheep!

Not only did their new home have more room, it had an added benefit-- they were going to be able to see sunshine for the first time as well. The Clucker Crate was located in front of a window facing west and as I opened the mini blinds, on what was a sunny Saturday afternoon, the little flockers stopped cheeping for a moment and paused -- poking heads up into the bright light, trying to figure out what this wonderful stuff was and then wanting as much of it as they could get. Ah, this warmed the cockles of this foster Flock Mama's heart.

The cluckers move into their new digs had caused me to notice something else; before they had access to natural light via a window, the little birds seemed to somehow know when it was nighttime and time for sleep or daytime and time to move about. Now, with the natural light, they would learn to set their awake and sleep clocks by the sunlight that they'll enjoy throughout their little clucking lives. These little foster cluckers are growing up and I'm a proud foster Mother Clucker to get to introduce them to all of these new things in their little worlds.

Our next step is the big outside world once it warms up enough outside. I can't wait to see what happens then!

It's a Chicken, No, a Turkey, No, a Chicken!

When the foster chickies were purchased a couple of weeks ago, they looked like little eggs with feet. They peeped, they pooped and they pecked their way through their little home. They didn't have any feathers yet, just a lot of fluff in various shades of white, brown, and black. Typical little ameraucana chickies.

It didn't take but a few days though and tiny wing feathers started to show as the little cluckers stretched their wings and found that they could flap and move even faster by using these new tools. Their whole appearance also started to change as feathers appeared at their tails, on their backs and at their feet. They were becoming teenage chickies.

During this first change, I noticed that one little clucker looked a lot different than her siblings-- her feathers curled outward and were skinnier than the rest. She still looked like an ameraucana with her markings, but definitely had the feathers of a turkey. What the cluck?!?!

She was happy and healthy though-- gobbling up food like crazy and doing her part to establish who had the rule of the roost in their clucker crib. I thought maybe her unusual plummage was something that she was going to grow out of-- maybe the feathers would straighten themselves out as they grew.

Not quite.

Her wing feathers grew larger and it was apparent that she would need to work on gaining more strength to keep the wings folded on her back like her more prim and proper chickie buddies. Until that time came, her wings would hang a little lower and prompted a name given lovingly from her Clucker Mother, "Turkey". This didn't seem to phase her-- she preened her funky feathers just as fastidiously as her flock mates.

This Clucker Mother celebrates uniqueness and excitedly sent a photo to little Turkey's Feather Father thinking that he would celebrate the joy of his soon-to-be-his, unique, baby as well.

Feather Father was less than pleased, responding: "Those are some messed up feathers." What the cluck?!?! How could the cuteness of this little one not be looked at with awe and wonderment of what she will become as she grows? Maybe she's a rare breed of chicken, a real, live Turkchicken! No mish-mashed weird meat stuffing of one bird into another as is done during Thanksgiving--completely what the cluck?!?

"Turkey" is growing perfectly in spite of her oddity and in celebration of her feathers regardless of what her future owner may think. She pecks and peeps with the best of them and doesn't shy away from her flock mates. I honestly think little Turkey knows she's something special. At least, this Mother Clucker thinks so. 

Eggactly the Perfect Easter Basket

Happy Easter to all! This year it's especially happy for me because the little chickies that I was raising at this time last year are now happily roaming the backyard and producing happy colorful gems in their nesting boxes. In fact, I enjoyed one of those lovely beauties for breakfast today.

I've loved watching everyone post about dyeing Easter eggs and I had to write about my own Easter basket that I get every day. I don't have to use any food coloring or, as I've seen in some videos, nail polish(?!). What the cluck? Nope, I go out to my henhouse every evening after coming home from work and discover 2 to 4 eggs in varying hues of peach, pink, and the most fun of all-- blue!

I thought after a few months of gathering eggs, I'd tire of opening the door to the nesting boxes and collecting the ladies' daily gifts. To tell the truth, I still get excited when I find an egg. I try very hard to respect the cluckers' privacy when they're sitting on the nests-- I figure that's private time for the hen and since I'm going to be taking what she's left behind soon, I might as well let her enjoy her time in there as much as possible. I like to think that I have happy hens who produce great tasting eggs.

So far, I think that's worked out pretty well. Everyone who has received eggs from the girls say that they taste delicious and I have to agree with them (though I am a little biased).

Every day for me is like Easter Sunday when I find those colored eggs and I love it!

The Poop of the Matter

Anyone who has had a baby animal or even a baby human child knows that they poop, and poop a lot! The same goes for little chickies and, I think, even moreso since their little systems are very quick to have food go in and mess come out. If you're caring for anything alive, you have to be okay with poop.

The little chickies that I'm currently raising are turning two weeks old tomorrow on Easter. After a couple of weeks of eating, drinking, pooping, shedding baby fuzz and goodness knows what else, it was time for a bedding change this morning in their little clucker crib. I couldn't stand to see them fluttering their budding feathers in their own filth; although they didn't seem to mind at all. Typical kids, right?

Cleaning the clucker crib needed to be a smooth, quick, operation so that I didn't stress out the little ones and didn't get them too cold in the process. They've been using the light in their container as their little sauna and I was going to have to take that away from them for a short time. I gathered the materials I was going to need; trash bag for the old bedding, bag of pine shavings for new bedding, and small cardboard box (just happened to be an Upland Wheat beer box - ha!) to hold the little cluckers. I was ready!

I tried to move as quickly as hens charging after a fresh batch of superworms but ended up running into a few snags. Immediately after getting the chickies into the beer box, I went to move the clucker crib and instantly tipped over their waterer that I had set aside on the floor (thinking it was out of the way)-- spilling about half of it onto the carpet. Cluck! I righted the waterer and then began to scoop bedding out of the clucker crib. The trash bag that I had wasn't large enough to stay open and bedding began to tumble out of my scoop and onto the floor as well. Son of a cluck! This was frustrating.  I pressed on though-- listening to my little group of chickies that were now sitting quietly in their little box-- I'm sure thinking "what the cluck is our Mother Clucker doing?!"

I managed to get the last of the dirty bedding out of the container and quickly grabbed the pine shavings bag and poured new, fresh bedding in. Whew! I'd made it! I picked up their waterer and placed it, then took the feeder and set that in place. Then I began to gently place the chicks in their clean digs. They were very vocal right away-- not sure if that was because they were happy that their home was clean or, more likely, that the new bedding was cooler than it was before. I fastened the lid on their little home and then started hearing a "peck, peck, peck peck peck peck..." What in the world? I peeked into the box and noticed that since I had put less bedding in this second time around, they were able to see the bottom of the box and had noticed that it was a different material and-- surprise-- made sound! Chickies are so easily entertained.

As I cleaned the mess around the clucker crib; mopping up the water and vacuuming the shavings that had fallen, I heard the loud vocalization from before calm and started to hear that little trill that chickies make when they're happy. If there are any other clucker mothers out there-- you know what sound I'm talking about-- it's one of my favorites!

A Foster Clucker Mother

It was bound to happen. I'm a Mother Clucker again. This time, however, I'm only a temporary one (at least, for the moment).

The original plan was to add one of the rare breeds of chickens to my little flock of 4. I had my heart set on a lavender orpington and I knew that there would be no way that I could raise one chick by itself for multiple reasons; one, she would get cold even with a heat lamp and two, she'd be lonely since chickens are flock animals and need at least one buddy.

I had a Cluck Buddy of my own who was wanting to raise another group of chicks to replace his flock of 6 who were massacred by a duo of dogs at the dawn of the new year. This seemed to be the perfect plan-- I'd get my one lavender chick and raise this one with the others. I wouldn't get attached to the others-- they'd just be there to keep my little chick warm and company until she was old enough to join my ladies out in the Cluck House.

As fate would have it, once I got the new chicks and they were settled, the lavender orpington wasn't strong enough to survive and she died on the second day that she was with me. This presented a whole new challenge-- would I call the Cluck Buddy and tell him that he needed to come get his chicks to raise on his own or would I continue to raise the remaining chicks and order another lavender? Of course, the latter is what happened.

I swore that I would not get attached to these temporary chicks while in my wait for a new chick. I wouldn't name them, I wouldn't pay much attention to them beyond making sure that they were fed, warm, watered and bottoms cleaned when needed. Yeah, that lasted all of 3 days.

Three of these chicks now have names; Turkey, Buttercup and Vanilla and I'm thinking that I need to name the other two as well (you know, so they don't feel left out). I say "hello" to them every morning and every evening when I come home. I've gotten to know their personalities and I've gotten intimate with them in cleaning their little bottoms when they forget to wipe. Side note: neither one of us, chick nor Mother Clucker, enjoys having to wash dirty bottoms.

It's going to be hard to let them go in just a few short weeks when they go to my Cluck Buddy's home in the country.

Meanwhile, I wait for the arrival of my new lavender orpingtons (yes, you read that correctly-- there will be more than one that is coming- stay tuned for that story in another post). I'm trying to be the best Foster Mother Clucker in the meantime and will keep talking to them and keeping the little cluckers happy.

No Mowing Needed?

As you've gathered if you've read any of my other entries-- my feathered friends are now over a year old and are allowed to free range throughout my yard during the day. It's pretty easy for both of us-- they get to eat their fill of bugs; cicadas, bees, mosquitoes, and also as much as grass as they'd like and I get a break in needing to fill their 7 lb. feeder every day.

There's just one problem with an all-you-can-eat-grass buffet-- the grass is now slowly disappearing.

Last year at this time the lawn was lush and very green and I was contemplating mowing early. I waited though, knowing that I had small chicks indoors who would soon be moved outside and would thoroughly enjoy the fresh blades as they learned about their new world. When I brought them out to live in the coop that I had built, the new chicks hungrily gobbled up the green-- making it so that I only had to mow once a month or so. This was great with me then, not so much now.

Now, the yard is dotted with dirt/dust pits and little tufts of grass that futilely attempt to grow. I noticed this evening that the peonies, that I was given from a friend who moved last year, have been dug up in spots with hungry appetites wanting to find those new earthworms and grubs that have survived the freezing of winter and are now starting to make their way back to the surface to eat, but also risk being eaten.

I knew this stage was coming, but didn't realize it would happen so quickly. In curiosity this evening, I peeked through the slats of my 6ft privacy fence at the neighbor's yard and noticed nice, green, lush grass. I was jealous for just a moment, but then I remembered-- I got the chickens because I liked the chickens and liking the chickens means that I take them with everything they give; both good (eggs, insect eaters and comedy) and bad (a yard that is slowly resembling barren wasteland). I'll take that, even though my mind says "what the cluck?"

I Got Worms!

It's a busy time of the year on my little urban farm. I have new chicks that I'm raising indoors until they're old enough, who peep at different times of the day; one of my cats, Blackie, keeps going inside, then going outside; my adult chickens are enjoying sunning themselves on the warming days and grabbing every new blade of grass that grows and well, yes, it finally happened-- I GOT WORMS!

Okay, so I'm sure you're saying "What the Cluck?!?!" to that. I think about the character Lloyd in the movie Dumb and Dumber and every time I think it, I laugh. Believe it or not, it wasn't the animals in my little urban farm that gave me worms-- I blame Petco. Okay, so it wasn't Petco's fault-- it's Rural King! Yeah, Rural King! The farm store with the giant 20 oz. bag of freeze dried mealworms that proclaimed loudly on the front of the bag "Your birds will love you for it!"  My current adult birds have just passed their one year of age mark and when I first got them, I didn't know squat about raising chickens. I asked a few friends who were less than willing to offer advice and gleaned every ounce of information I could from just about every chicken blog/info. site out there. I thought the chickens would like to have the freeze dried worms-- no, rather, they NEEDED to have the freeze-dried, crusty nasty things! After all, I wanted my birds to love me for it!

The freeze dried creatures didn't come cheaply-- 20 oz. for around $20 and all it took was a few feedings with them and now the bag is like chicken crack. All I have to do is go inside and grab the blue bag and no matter where my birds are in the yard-- they come charging like American Pharoah on Preakness Day! They don't move away from the bag at all either. I can move the bag behind me and they lag behind, I move the bag out to a stretched arm's length-- they look at it with Pavlov dog's eyes. I swear if a chicken could drool for wanting a treat, these girls would! So, a sucker was born with the freeze dried mealworms.

I've been purchasing the blue bag every few months or so and using it as bribery bait to get the girls to go willingly into their coop at night. It's a little bedtime snack and the equivalent, I guess, to a chicken wanting a glass of warm milk and being tucked in. One evening, I was curious to the origin of the worms so I looked on the bag. There, in the fine print, was the country of origin; China.

Now, I don't have a problem with China at all- no problem with the language, the food, etc. But the fact that these worms had traveled such a far distance and fed goodness knows what and stored in goodness knows where, made me think twice about the eggs that my girls produce. I'm sure that everything is great-- no one who has eaten the eggs from these happy chickens has suffered any ill effects (or at least, not that they're telling me- ha!) and the birds seem very happy and healthy, but I guess it was my want and need to have a hand in another aspect of producing food and to feed the thing that produces the food for the humans, good quality food as well. I wanted to raise my own mealworms to feed to my little cluckers.

I began doing all sorts of research on how to raise mealworms, things that honestly look like they've just crawled from some dead carcass, took steroids and ended up in a tray of dancing oatmeal. It didn't seem terribly difficult so took the plunge and purchased the items I'd need for my own mealworm haven.

First were the worms, I visited my local Petco and went to the reptile section where I found that not only were there mealworms available, but mealworms by varying quantity, size, and type. I also noted the prices of the "premium" reptile food. $3.99 for 25 mealworms. Yikes! Well, this was why I was wanting to raise my own-- I shouldn't let cost be a factor. I bravely opened the lid to one of the 25 mealworms container. I saw sawdust and three dead mealworms resting on top of the bedding. Hmm, that's nice, I thought, they sell the package as 25 mealworms, but three of them are already dead?! What the  Cluck?!?! I gingerly moved my finger through the bedding, finding another, and another and another dead mealworm. This wouldn't do at all! I moved from the 25 mealworms to the next level up and more costly, the 50 mealworms. This container also had the statement "Superworms" on the front of it. Wow, I thought-- these must really be something!

I opened the lid to the "Superworms" and saw 10 very fat, very active worms moving on the top of the bedding in this container. This was my winner! Perfect breeding stock! *stifle laughter here* I noted the price, $5.99, and proceeded to approach the front counter with my purchase. Check out was a breeze and as I walked to my car I realized that I needed to get the three drawer container that I had seen in almost all of the YouTube videos on how to raise mealworms. I also needed to get carrots, oats and window screen. I looked at my choice of stores available as I touched the handle to my Honda Fit. Walmart. Walmart was going to be my best choice for getting all of these things and getting home before the sun went down so I could watch my girls in the yard for a few moments. Side note-- don't ask me why, but I love watching the birds peck and scratch, especially at the end of a long day of work.

Those who know me well, know I absolutely abhor Walmart. I don't like having to go into the store, I don't like shopping there-- I really don't like much at all about it The parking lot is scary and people race through the aisles like they're at a NASCAR race. Now, I apologize to those who like and love the store-- I think it's great that you like it. It's just not my thing. However, it was going to be my best chance for success to find the four things that I needed to complete my worm start up kit so into the store I went.

Fortunately, I found my items quickly and now that there is a self-serve checkout-- I was out in just a few minutes with a huge roll of screen, a three drawer container, some carrots and a tub of oats. I wasn't sure whether to get quick or old fashioned oats so I opted for the later thinking the crawlies would like those better.

 



I came home with my worm start up kit and assembled the three drawer rolling cart. Unfortunately one of the casters on it didn't want to fit in the hole provided so I took care of that quickly-- drill bit to the rescue! I poured the package of oats into one of the drawers, snapped a whole carrot in half and tossed that into the oats and then released the worms. They immediately started burrowing into the substrate-- giving the appearance of bubbling oatmeal. Gross, I thought. I knew that I needed to get the bottom cut out of one of the drawers and the screen applied, but I thought I'd do one more check of one of the YouTube videos that I had saw that showed how to do the screen.

What I found was that I had just purchased the wrong type of mealworm. Apparently, the Superworms are extremely difficult to make more of and require a lot more work. Great. Well, we'll let those Superworms enjoy an evening or two in their little worm Hilton and then, when I get the regular mealworms, we'll let nature happen the way it's supposed to and the chickens will be well fed that day. What the Cluck?!?!