A BAD WEEK.
Things continue to go remarkably smoothly while we watch Bugtussle Farm for the Smith's. But at our own homestead, things have suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Starting on Saturday, after we went to do chores around 5 in the evening, we came back an hour later to our cabin to find the chicken yard FILLED with feathers and the fence literally knocked to the ground. A quick head-count and examination of feathers, and it seemed Grampa Munster was a goner. We were super bummed and a little confused - we have had virtually no predation problems. Was it an owl? Hawk? Fox? Who knocked down the fence - was it Wendell hopefully trying to protect the flock?Well, this continues to happen. Three days, three chickens gone - ALWAYS when we go and do chores. Yesterday, we even heard the chickens sounding the alarm while we were up on the hill moving the livestock. Jesse ran down the hill but it was too late (and he found our dummy doggie sleeping soundly under the house). Losing a chicken a day is never good - but especially not when we only have 15 laying hens. And of course, this smart thief (we are guessing fox) has been taking our fattest, favorite birds....not any of the 20 or so bantams that we don't particularly want or know what to do with.On top of this - a broody (sitting on eggs) hen was attacked two days ago while sitting on her nest. We don't know what got her, but her leg/thigh was badly opened up and bleeding, and things don't look good (I mean....there are maggots involved.) So basically - this past week has sucked, and we are super sad - not just about losing our egg supply but because we love/name/obsess over these girls. And because we don't really know how to stop the cycle of death.But here is the thing - and it is a magical thing. It is that thing that always seems to happen on the farm, where death and life are connected and always seem to follow, one after the other. Although we don't think the mama hen is going to survive, one (only one!) of her eggs hatched yesterday morning. We are brooding her inside, next to the woodstove. We are loving her and willing her to survive.There is always hope.
She was born the day our favorite chicken, Beyoncé, was killed. And so her name, obviously, is Destiny's Child.- Hannah.
SIXTEEN LADIES.
It seemed like we built our chicken coop ages ago....and we have been waiting and waiting for the day we could fill it with our own little flock. Some hard-working folks have been busy clearing out all the leftover debris and junk from our yard this week...so we decided it was time to find some chickens!It was very last minute, but the ever-reliable Craigslist came to our rescue. And now - we have our girls! Sixteen. Barred rocks (the black and white speckled ones), Golden Comets (brown and white), and White Leghorns - or "Leggerns" as they seem to be called around these parts. They are pullets - which is basically like teenagers - so they aren't quite laying yet. But we are more than happy to bring them home while they are still developing, so that we can get them started on a good diet and out on some fresh grass before enjoying their eggs!We are so in love. Yesterday, I just sat with them for almost an hour...feeding them worms and naming them. We've have named the four Golden Comet's: Rose, Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia (our Golden Girls). Plus, we got an extra chicken for free: She was a "dirty bird," basically a cross of two breeds and therefore useless to the farmer who registers his flocks. We love her the most, don't tell the others. She is the barred rock with a brown head you can see in the second-to-last photo. She is a TOTAL diva. Her name: Beyonce.We still have a lot more to name: suggestions?- Hannah.
