Well, ever since we lost Alice (RIP), we got in the habit of always counting 25. The 24 girls, plus Jun= 25. So when they have been out for awhile on their own, when we are trying to get them all together, we count them.
Last weekend, when Patty was counting, she yelled to me, my mom, Steevareeno, and Mariah to come help her count because she swore she was counting 26. So we all started counting...11 in the coop and 15 outside...that's 26...wait...that's not right...count them again. This went on and on for about 5 minutes, and I said let's check them by breed. How many whites do we have? 3...ok that's right...how many buffs? 3...ok...that's right... How many blacks? 4....huh? Check again....yep, definitely 4 black ones....Well I only ordered 3....we didn't have more than 3 of any kind. So we looked at the black australorps, and sure enough, one of them had a larger comb, and wattles. How the hell?
So either this extra chicken was dropped off, or it ran away from home...but we have no idea how in the world it ended up IN the run. She looks healthy...so we don't really mind....at least no one dumped puppies or something in our yard. But as for the story of the 26th chicken...the world may never know...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
One legged Jun, and the crow heard 'round the farm...
Our poor Jun. Several weeks ago, when my mom was visiting, she noticed our "free exotic chick", Jun, was limping. I picked him up and looked at his feet and legs and saw nothing. After a few days, it got a lot worse. We have no idea what he did, but he wouldn't walk or stand. I was really afraid we were going to lose him...that the girls would take advantage of the fact that he couldn't get away, and peck him to death. But there wasn't anything we could do. I hoped whatever was going on with him would heal itself, and he would be back to normal. He didn't move for about a week. Patty kept putting food in front of him, and dipping his beak for water, but he just laid in the corner of the coop all day and night...couldn't move to go outside or eat or drink. It's been about 3 weeks now, and he is back to hobbling around. He doesn't seem to be in pain...and he moves around pretty good...but he will probably have this bad limp for the rest of his little life...And yes, he is still bald...but we don't point that out to him because he is self-concious about it...
And the little guy crows....I think we have come to the conclusion that he is our only rooster, but a rooster he definitely is! When we go see him, he puffs up, and then lets it go with everything he has! COCKADOODLE DOO!!! It's so cute. We turn away when we giggle, because we don't want to insult his little masculinity...but it's so darn cute. And he loves being held...he falls asleep. It's probably from all the times he was held when the tar was being put on his head to protect it. But he is a real sweetheart, and I hope he is around for a really long time. :)
And the little guy crows....I think we have come to the conclusion that he is our only rooster, but a rooster he definitely is! When we go see him, he puffs up, and then lets it go with everything he has! COCKADOODLE DOO!!! It's so cute. We turn away when we giggle, because we don't want to insult his little masculinity...but it's so darn cute. And he loves being held...he falls asleep. It's probably from all the times he was held when the tar was being put on his head to protect it. But he is a real sweetheart, and I hope he is around for a really long time. :)
The saga continues...
I am so sorry! I bet you guys have been worried sick out of your minds! Last I mention the crazy Canadian Pig Farmer...and then nothing....silence....I bet you were all thinking that I met the back of my own shovel...but don't you worry your pretty little heads! All is well here. Just tremendously busy...so I will try to catch you up the best I can.
The chicken run is done...TA DUM!!!! Well except for the roofing. It's just a tarp right now. But at least they can be outside...but let me back up.
It got to the point that as long as the little bubble was between the lines it was perfectly level. Toward the end, we were dreading our days working on the run. It seemed it would never end. The chickens were getting bigger...and their coop, even though perfect for evenings, was too small for all day long.
After the frame was up, we attached two layers of fencing with a staple gun...yep...sounds like bad news....
P was shooting staples, and wondering why no staples were coming out...and the next 60 seconds happened in slow motion...She turned the staple gun, and was holding it by the wrong end...I'm not sure how it happened, but the handle was squeezed, and a staple ended up in her hand. She yelled and dropped the stapler, and held her hand out. Fortunately, she was wearing a rubber glove. But we both just stared at her hand, kind of in shock. I swear I may have even said, "Hey, did you know there is a staple in your hand?" ;) So she pulled it out and we were both dreading her taking the glove off...I knew it had to have gone in almost a half inch. She pulled her glove off, and the palm of her hand looked like she had been bit by a snake. I ran and got the first aid kit, and after some deep breathing exercises, she was doing pretty good! We cleaned her hand, and put some gauze on it. And then...being the total bad ass she is...put a latex glove on, put her rubber glove on, and then insisted we go back to work. I guess that's why she gets the Xena the Warrior Princess hammer and I get the lame one that might as well squeak...because I would have been paralyzed. I would have probably dropped to my knees, shook my bloody hand at the sky and yelled WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?! and passed out yelling for someone to suck out the poison...And then when I woke up I would have insisted on a cast that all my friends and family could sign and an ice cream to ease my pain...So we worked for about another hour, and as a prize, I bought her duct tape bandaids to wear on her puncture so she could maintain her badass image...
So we eventually finished the run after several long days and the occasional friendly disagreement. :) On the big day we opened the little chicken door....the voices of angels were heard...and....they wouldn't go out. I had to pick up every single one of them individually and push them through the little chicken door while P had to keep them from running back in on the outside. And then to get them back in was a joke. We literally had to chase them and herd them back in. That was the first time. Now, their little chicken door is on a timer. It opens at 5am, and closes at 9pm. We can see them from our bedroom with the binoculars. It is so cute to watch them run like little football players, and try to fly. They are 18 weeks now, and should be laying in a few weeks. Eggs anyone?
The chicken run is done...TA DUM!!!! Well except for the roofing. It's just a tarp right now. But at least they can be outside...but let me back up.
It got to the point that as long as the little bubble was between the lines it was perfectly level. Toward the end, we were dreading our days working on the run. It seemed it would never end. The chickens were getting bigger...and their coop, even though perfect for evenings, was too small for all day long.
After the frame was up, we attached two layers of fencing with a staple gun...yep...sounds like bad news....
P was shooting staples, and wondering why no staples were coming out...and the next 60 seconds happened in slow motion...She turned the staple gun, and was holding it by the wrong end...I'm not sure how it happened, but the handle was squeezed, and a staple ended up in her hand. She yelled and dropped the stapler, and held her hand out. Fortunately, she was wearing a rubber glove. But we both just stared at her hand, kind of in shock. I swear I may have even said, "Hey, did you know there is a staple in your hand?" ;) So she pulled it out and we were both dreading her taking the glove off...I knew it had to have gone in almost a half inch. She pulled her glove off, and the palm of her hand looked like she had been bit by a snake. I ran and got the first aid kit, and after some deep breathing exercises, she was doing pretty good! We cleaned her hand, and put some gauze on it. And then...being the total bad ass she is...put a latex glove on, put her rubber glove on, and then insisted we go back to work. I guess that's why she gets the Xena the Warrior Princess hammer and I get the lame one that might as well squeak...because I would have been paralyzed. I would have probably dropped to my knees, shook my bloody hand at the sky and yelled WHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?! and passed out yelling for someone to suck out the poison...And then when I woke up I would have insisted on a cast that all my friends and family could sign and an ice cream to ease my pain...So we worked for about another hour, and as a prize, I bought her duct tape bandaids to wear on her puncture so she could maintain her badass image...
So we eventually finished the run after several long days and the occasional friendly disagreement. :) On the big day we opened the little chicken door....the voices of angels were heard...and....they wouldn't go out. I had to pick up every single one of them individually and push them through the little chicken door while P had to keep them from running back in on the outside. And then to get them back in was a joke. We literally had to chase them and herd them back in. That was the first time. Now, their little chicken door is on a timer. It opens at 5am, and closes at 9pm. We can see them from our bedroom with the binoculars. It is so cute to watch them run like little football players, and try to fly. They are 18 weeks now, and should be laying in a few weeks. Eggs anyone?
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