Food Chain

In addition to feeding my ladies,

I feed a healthy population of mice.

It's kind of inevitable.  

They live in the rafters of the shed, in nests made of Marky's shredded dog-toys.

They tunnel into the coop and eat the spilled chicken feed.

Last fall, these creatures had quite the population explosion.

When I stepped into the shed, great herds of mice brazenly scurried across my boots and stalked me fearlessly from the rafters.  

When they moved into our own attic, I began to think unpleasant thoughts about mouse traps and such. 

But I didn't have to think about that for long. On a warm night with the window open, I was pleasantly awakened by the calls of three different types of owls. The mice had been discovered. Their numbers swiftly declined.

So my mice are doing their jobs supporting the food chain, and I'm feeling much better about supporting the mice.  

Now a fox has made a home in the woods right behind the coop. 

I'd like to think that this fox is attracted by the mice, but...well, it did find a good chicken-dinner in our yard a couple of years ago (see Silent Morning).

A raccoon, a fisher cat and several hawks also check in on the girls from time to time.

Recently, we left town for a whole week, and I made certain that my flock would be safe and comfortable while we were gone.




When we returned, the ladies were incredibly happy to see us.

You'd think they'd seen a predator or something.

Chicken Milking

Some well-meaning friends talked me into trying a Yoga class. They said it was just what I needed.
  
Gentle music played and incense wafted as the instructor guided our twists, our stretches, our breathing...while I wrote my grocery list in my head and tried to remember if Sarah's orthodontist appointment was tomorrow or next Tuesday.


After about a half-hour I actually began to get into the groove when, balanced on left knee and right hand, I twisted my head to look up at the clock---

Only nine minutes had passed. 

Nine Minutes?   


Aside from maybe having a molar pulled, this was the longest nine minutes I'd ever endured. 


Panicking silently, I tried to come up with an urgent excuse or a graceful exit, but could think of none.  I would have to endure the eternal yoga class.


Believe it or not, it eventually ended.  With the delightful Corpse pose which I mastered like a master.  I rolled up my yoga mat and skittered out the door never to return.


Wikipedia tells me:
"The goal of yoga, or the person practicing yoga, is the attainment of a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility."





Heck, I don't need no yoga mat for that.


Because I've got a Chicken-milking stool.

No, I don't milk the chickens on this stool.  But if chickens could be milked, this would be the perfect stool for the job.

I got it at Ikea for $7.99.  


It lives out in the yard, and it beckons me.


This stool brings me closer to all things awesome. 

Like Lucy's face.

Late in the day when the girls free-range, Lucy shuffles over to sit by the stool, knowing I'll eventually be planting myself there.   I join the ladies every evening for free-ranging time on account of this:

which has taken up roosting here:

A Red Shouldered hawk.  Actually, we've got a whole family of them, and they'd like nothing better than a chicken dinner.

Since Lucy can't get around too well, (click here for Lucy's story), she sits down and joins me on Hawk-Patrol.  
Marky also keeps an eye out for hawks.  He's a very good little watchdog.

Of course, when he's not scanning the skies, 

he's doing his yoga.

Lucy, too... When she's not watching for hawks, she practices the Bharadvaja's Twist.

They take turns, so somebody's always on watch--


which leaves me free to seek a state of spiritual insight from the comfort of my stool.

At my feet is a telltale sign that Lil'White has begun her molt.  

 

I find the rest of her beneath the forsythia,

 where she appears to have exploded.


How does she do it?   
While all the other molting gals look miserable and disheveled,   

(poor little Pigeon, here, sports one pathetic tail feather)

Lil'White loses more than half her plumage and still remains the picture of beauty and poise.


Oh, the perspectives I'd miss

were it not for my chicken-milking stool.

And you know, I'm not the only one who seeks to attain a sense of peace and spirituality through chickens.   



Here my friend Sharon Araujo does a modified Standing Half Forward Bend while Terry Golson of Hencam.com attempts an especially complex yoga position to attain the best chicken-butt photo,

and thus, spiritual insight and tranquility.

Namaste.

Lil'White Goes Shopping

A Facebook friend declared August 14  "Take Your Chicken to a Pet Store Day".


So I did!


I took Lil'White.

I'm not sure what she was expecting, 

but I don't think she was prepared for all the attention.

She caused lots of double-takes and smiles.  We had some nice chats with customers...wandered around... picked up a little toy for Marky.

Lil'White maintained her composure until we arrived at the Budgie cage.

That's when her little toes started quivering and we decided it was time to depart. 


Just a little delay at the checkout --

And we were home within the hour.

To Lil'White, it seemed much longer. 


I'm glad we went on this little adventure. Lil'White served as a fine ambassador for pet chickens, and in our conversations with amused shoppers, we were able to slip in a little comment here and there about healthy eggs from happy hens -- which is really what it's all about.

KIDS AND CHICKENS

Every kid...so totally unique.

Abby, here, passionately embraces Nature.
From the tiniest, creepiest --

-- to the hugest enormousest.


In my back yard, Abby has her own personal mission:

to rearrange the chickens.

Pigeon goes here...

Not sure where Lil'White should go...

Because she's speedy and deliberate, Abby's the only one of us who's able to catch fleet-footed Daisy.
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George, however, is so patient that Daisy steps right onto his hand.

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At my friend Trish's house, while she and I chatted on the lawn, 

her son Chris perched a rooster on his head and ran loops around the yard. 


Chris is a teenager now, and will be horrified to read this, but...  sorry, Chris -- that joyous image is forever etched in my memory.
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Lil'White has been Sarah's favorite from the beginning.

Sarah tenderly scoops her up,

and gazes lovingly into those vapid little eyes.
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Amanda came to visit, expressly to meet the chickens.
Pigeon seemed very curious, and followed Amanda all around.

So Amanda stopped and offered Pigeon some grass.  The two of them had a long, long conversation....

I wonder if it was Amanda's polka-dotty swimsuit that intrigued Pigeon so... 

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I've been doing some chicken-talks lately, and have come to look forward to chatting with the older folks at these events.   They're so happy to tell me of their favorite childhood chickens.  One woman told me she dressed hers up in a bonnet and wheeled it around in a baby carriage.   
Another lady innocently explained how she and her siblings made pull-toys out of their beloved hens:  
you just tie a string around a bit of bread, and then feed it....

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