The Chickens Have Landed
Monday, June 28, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
New digs
This morning there was a great squawking out back, and when we went to investigate we found 4 of the 10 hens outside the fence. That settled the question of when we would move some of them (and which ones) into the 4x4 ft pen we got from our neighbor last weekend. (He recently built his chickens the Taj Mahal of coops, and they run free in his yard, there being no toddlers there to compete for poop-free territory.)
So, 2 of the While Orpingtons and 2 of the Buffs are now in residence in the new pen, with a dog-house turned pigeon coop repurposed once again for their nesting box. This was a bit of a challenge, as once out, these chickens want desperately to get back in, but the way out is too close quarters for humans to help, and they can’t figure out how to do it on their own. So we scoot them out of that corner with the leaf rake, then kind of sweep them towards a corner of the yard , hoping they will stick their necks through a hole in the chain link fence. This slows them down enough that we can grab them. (Our neighbors birds are more domesticated: he can just reach down and pick them up.)
As I returned from the feed store with new feeders and a composter, I startled the other 6 in the tractor sufficiently that the Dark Cornish (the one with no tail feathers, you recall) popped over the low spot in the fence. Turns out she is the only one who, having inadvertently escaped, is actually able to return from whence she came. Interesting, the different aspects of survival. If you can’t fend for yourself, like the bullying, first-to-the-treat Whites, at least you can retreat to, not safety exactly, but familiarity.
…later, same day
After a little consideration (it didn’t take much) we have segregated the chickens based on color. (Does separate but equal work with chickens?) Mostly we want to see a) how the Dark Cornish does without the White Orpingtons to gang up on her, and b) what the dynamic will be among the Whites with no one to pick on.
So far, the Whites are huddled together in the old pen, wondering where all the fun went; the rest of them are seeming to notice things on the ground for the first time, hopping up on the roosts, pulling bits of green stuff through the wire. Getting downright playful. Even Ringo, our English Spaniel who was once chased out of the living room by an earthworm, thinks these girls might not get him.
So, 2 of the While Orpingtons and 2 of the Buffs are now in residence in the new pen, with a dog-house turned pigeon coop repurposed once again for their nesting box. This was a bit of a challenge, as once out, these chickens want desperately to get back in, but the way out is too close quarters for humans to help, and they can’t figure out how to do it on their own. So we scoot them out of that corner with the leaf rake, then kind of sweep them towards a corner of the yard , hoping they will stick their necks through a hole in the chain link fence. This slows them down enough that we can grab them. (Our neighbors birds are more domesticated: he can just reach down and pick them up.)
As I returned from the feed store with new feeders and a composter, I startled the other 6 in the tractor sufficiently that the Dark Cornish (the one with no tail feathers, you recall) popped over the low spot in the fence. Turns out she is the only one who, having inadvertently escaped, is actually able to return from whence she came. Interesting, the different aspects of survival. If you can’t fend for yourself, like the bullying, first-to-the-treat Whites, at least you can retreat to, not safety exactly, but familiarity.
…later, same day
After a little consideration (it didn’t take much) we have segregated the chickens based on color. (Does separate but equal work with chickens?) Mostly we want to see a) how the Dark Cornish does without the White Orpingtons to gang up on her, and b) what the dynamic will be among the Whites with no one to pick on.
So far, the Whites are huddled together in the old pen, wondering where all the fun went; the rest of them are seeming to notice things on the ground for the first time, hopping up on the roosts, pulling bits of green stuff through the wire. Getting downright playful. Even Ringo, our English Spaniel who was once chased out of the living room by an earthworm, thinks these girls might not get him.
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