Meet the New Guy!

Allow me to introduce

Angel.

Angel is Grandma Nancy's dog. He has recently moved in with us because Grandma needs a break from dog-walking duties these days. 

Marky likes Angel. 

Especially because Angel came with all this loot.

But Marky seems befuddled by his new little buddy. 

Is he really a dog?

I mean, can he bark like this?

Can he pull a tree up by its roots?

Can he catch a snowball with his bare fangs?

Can he burn rubber?

Can he smell this putrid?

Apparently not all dogs are descendants of the bold and mysterious wolf.

We've actually traced Angel's DNA

to this. 

Don't get me wrong. Marky, like most dogs, has suffered cuteness at times. 

He has a girl, Sarah. And, well, sometimes cute happens.

But for the most part he's a serious chicken-protecting dude. 

At first, Angel was curious about the ladies. 

But on closer inspection,he found that they are bigger than he is, and pretty darn scary.

So he prefers to stick to the things he does best:

Keeping me company and 

looking cute.

THE RING

Nine years ago, I was cleaning out a bird house at the corner of the yard.  As I pulled out the nest material my ring flew off my finger and into a pile of leaves.

I made mental note of the exact spot where it landed, then put the bird house back together.

When I went to retrieve the ring, I couldn't find it. 
I was not heartbroken - it wasn't especially precious to me. Just a ring that I liked. 


Weeks, months, years passed. Whenever I was in that general area I kicked leaves around, looking for a glimmer of silver and red. 


I wondered if it had rolled down a chipmunk hole, or had been buried deep by hard-working worms. 


Today, I parked the chicken-tractor in that spot so the girls could do some worm-hunting in the cool shade.


Well, I'll be darned.


Pigeon didn't seem interested. 


She had more important business.



The sparkly red gem is missing, 


but I'm not going to hunt for it.

BEAUTY TREATMENT

Preening. 

We humans do it with tweezers and brushes and aftershave and eyeliner.  

In the ladies' room at the restaurant, we line up in front of the mirror, refresh the lipstick, pouf the hairdo, pick that piece of spinach from between the teeth.  

And just like us, chickens have their rituals.

My ladies get together and preen after they've enjoyed a good meal.  

Pigeon preens to put her friends at ease. 

Once Pigeon starts, everyone joins in.

Daisy is an expert preener.  She makes use of the oil gland at the base of her tail to coat every red feather in shiny brilliance. She does a good job -- rain rolls off Daisy like it rolls off a duck.

 

 Lil'White, being perfect in every way, has no need to preen.  She reluctantly joins in , and finds one rogue feather that needs to be tweaked back in place.

Fern doesn't have time to preen. Just like she doesn't have time to lay an egg.  She does a quick flicking of the feathers, 

and then returns to her primary focus:  to make Lucy's life miserable.

 

But this time, Lucy has found safe haven on my arm.

And when she's done preening herself, 

she preens me. 

 She's hunting for grey hairs.

You missed one, Lucy.

One day while the ladies were grazing, Fern approached Lucy.  I assumed that Fern intended to peck and torture her as usual.  Instead, Lucy reached over and began to preen Fern.  I believe even Fern was surprised.

Being an Ameraucana, Fern is a "Bearded Lady" of the chicken world.  

so I'm guessing that Lucy had found some tasty crumbs stuck to her beard.   

Still, I was intrigued by Lucy's gesture toward her tormentor.

Fern seemed appreciative.

Marky, like Fern, is not into preening...

...I wonder if I could enlist Lucy to help out. 

Fern's Amazing Rubber Egg

They say that one nest box is all you need for three or four hens. But when one of your hens is Lil'White, that's another story.


Lil'White hogs the nest box.  Always has.  


Sometimes she pretends to be broody, like this: 

Ouch!


...I swear she's faking it. 


Last year I made a new coop for my five gals, with TWO nest boxes.   
One for Lil'White, and one for everybody else.   


For some reason, everybody preferred Lil'White's nest box, so there was still a line of anxious hens waiting their turn.

Then I had a clever idea. 

I placed a rubber egg in the unused nest box to make that box appear desirable.


Instantly, that second nest box was deemed eggworthy by the flock, and we never had a problem with a long queue again.   


But another problem did creep up:

Her name is Fern.


Right about the time of the rubber egg, Fern stopped laying.
Until that time, she was laying beautifully -- 

Her petite blue eggs were regular treasures... maybe three or four a week.  


The shutdown of little Fern's internal egg factory was a mystery.


There are several reasons a hen might take a break from laying during the summer -- hot weather, a molt, broodiness, poor health...   I didn't see signs of any issues or problems in Fern.  

She was still the little whippersnapper she'd always been. Still getting into trouble.

(Closeup: Fern waits for Lil'White to resume pecking her on the head.)


Fern must have had her reasons for not laying eggs, and I supposed she'd get back to laying pretty soon.


Sure enough, after a few weeks, Fern did start marching into the nest box each morning. 

She preferred the box with the rubber egg. 

Every day, she settled in and hunkered down.


And when she was done, she stepped out onto the upper perch 

to formally announce her accomplishment. 

The problem:   
There WAS no accomplishment.
Fern wasn't laying anything.  
No blue eggs. No eggs at all. 


She still isn't laying, and it's been FOUR MONTHS.


For four months, she has been going through the motions, daily. 

...looks like Daisy's been here already.

Does Fern think she's laying a rubber egg every day?


If that's what's going on in her tiny little head, that's okay with me. But I really am dying to know.


If she never lays a cute blue egg ever again, that's okay too.  She won't end up in the stewpot because I still appreciate all the redeeming qualities that make her...well... Fern.


I guess Fern is just a bit unusual...


But, then, aren't we all?