THIS & THAT.
Some random photos from the past week.
Sergio! Our new rooster, a big sweetie. He's working on growing his tail feathers back.
This is basically what our entire homestead looks like these days. So.Much.Mud.
A sweet treat from a sweet Nashville friend.
Wendell loves belly rubs.
We STILL have hundreds of these little ladies inside our house. This one was easy to miss.
ROOSTER CULL.
I came around the corner of our cabin to find the youngest Smith child, sweet Olivia, aged three, chasing Favorite Chick, our hellion rooster. Seeing a potentially dangerous situation developing, I called to Olivia and tried to move in quick, but was too late. As Olivia turned around, Favorite Chick pounced on her, swiping at her legs with his talons and splitting the skin before I could grab him. Though not as bad as we'd feared, it had been what we'd feared—Favorite Chick had attacked a child.A month ago we had to put our beloved rooster Ellen down. Ellen had been sick and was in misery. We did what we could, but he wasn't getting better and we hated the idea of him suffering any longer, so I killed him. It was hard, we still miss him, but we felt it had to be done.Ellen's passing, however, meant we were also out a rooster. Hannah and I enjoy having a rooster as we prefer the taste of fertilized eggs (and the potential to hatch more chicks). But roosters also add a little protection for the hens, which is welcomed in our little woody area where predation is a potentiality from all sides. When Ellen was gone, the oldest Smith child, Ira, gave us one of his roosters, who he called Favorite Chick. Ellen was calm, assertive, but never aggressive towards us, and did his job well. Favorite Chick was Ellen's cocky opposite—high-strung, mean, ornery, and had no problem attacking us from behind. Or our guests. Or, apparently, children—children being where we drew the line.We had considered culling Favorite Chick for weeks. We almost did after he attacked me, almost after he attacked Cher, and many times after he attacked Hannah. But we didn't because we wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. And we eventually regretted it. Watching Olivia cry, we regretted not taking care of him sooner. Because as bad as it was, it could have been much worse. It could have been the face. It could have been the eyes. But that is why I wanted to share this story, because Favorite Chick—who I admit had a truly unfortunate name for a story like this—was the first animal I'd ever killed not because he was sick, or even for food (though he did become chicken soup), but because he was dangerous. I'm not looking to justify what I did—I was preventing future attacks on children which, to me, needs no justification—but I'd like to hear what others have and/or would have done in the same situation. Our dear readers, farmers or not, should feel free to shed some perspective or share a story.- Jesse.
ATTACK.
We had our first attack on the chickens last night. Honestly, I can't believe that it hasn't happened before - as the ladies have grown fond of wandering through the woods during the day, scratching under leaves and dead trees for bugs. There have been several close calls, mostly with hawks, but last night was the first actual attack. We were listening to election results on the radio in our room, and there was a terrible squawking from outside. A possum had crawled up through the chicken wire on the bottom of the coop and had a tight hold of Ellen. Jesse was able to shove the possum out with a tobacco stick and then kill it. (Sorry for the violence, folks, but that's how this farming life goes. If we had let it live, it just would keep coming back for more....and we love our chickens.) After a midnight coop repairing session, we went back to sleep. Ellen was very battered and bloody, and I felt pretty certain he wouldn't make it through the night.I can truly say that I have never been so happy to be startled awake at dawn by Ellen's squeaky crow. He looks a little rough, but I think he will be just fine. I am so proud of him - he clearly jumped down from his perch to protect the other chickens. What a hero! Here's an old picture of the handsome man....although he has a little less feathers this morning after last nights adventure.-Hannah.
MEET ELLEN.
I told you we had a new member of the farmstead, and here he is: our brand new Black Cochin rooster, Ellen.
Although it may seem strange, Jesse and I actually want a rooster in our flock. We wanted a little protection for the girls, plus, we simply prefer fertile eggs. We assumed that at least a few of the pullets we bought a couple months ago would end up being boys.....but we got all girls! So when some dear friends and shareholders offered us a rooster, we were intrigued. We weren't sure about how our small, young hens would do with a full-grown rooster, but shortly after meeting him this past weekend he was in the backseat of the car, on his way home with us. As you can see, he is super friendly....characteristic of the breed. He is getting along great with the chickens, although Wendell isn't quite sure about him yet. Now, hopefully having a man around will encourage our ladies to finally LAY!
- Hannah.
