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It’s a greeting I never tire of.

Last year we ended up with 18 extra roosters from all the broody hatches we had. We sent 17 to freezer camp, and Charlotte adopted a Phoenix cockerel. While it was nice having chicken in the freezer and they tasted delicious, these guys were very small and hardly worth the effort. This year I promised Bernie to limit the number of chicks I allowed the broodies to hatch out.

I was doing really well there for a good long while. Within a matter of a few short weeks, I had eight broody hens. I gave the first babies to hatch to a neighbor when the chicks were a couple of days old. Score! Then Charlotte agreed to take two of the broody hens and all the babies they hatched. Double score! From the remaining broodies, we ended up with only four new peeps in the yard.

During all this excitement and broodiness, I noticed I was missing one hen when I tucked them in at night. After a week or so, I figured she was either setting on a nest in the woods or was gone. A few days later, I came up short one more when I tucked them in at night. I figured it was this broody and I pretty much gave up on the first one that went missing - but I did not lose all hope.

This afternoon in was in the goat paddock playing with them and Bernie was sitting at the picnic table in the backyard watching us. I began hearing some faint cheeping. A few minutes later it was noticeably louder.

I hollered over to Bernie, “Did the mamas leave those chicks back here again?” A couple of the mama hens that I let hatch out chicks have started leaving their babies and getting on with life - when the babies are not hot on their heals as they walk away. And when the mamas do manage to escape, those chicks scream bloody murder.

“Um, I don’t think so. These babies are very, very tiny.”

By the time he finished his sentence I had made it out of the goat paddock and was running toward the cheeping I heard.

And there she was. The first hen that came up missing - with four little babies bumbling along behind her.

I filled a feeder and waterer and put it down for them, but mama would immediately lead them away if I got anywhere close.

You’ll have to look very closely, but there are two chicks in this picture:

And there are three in this one:

She has a total of four babies. I was really hoping to catch her and the babies and get them in a brooder, but I had no luck. She did finally lay down for a while with the babies under her.

But she kept a close eye on me the entire time. I am really praying she heads to the coop with the babies tonight. It’s quite a journey for such tiny little chicks, but mama hens expect their babies to hit the ground running, so it’s possible she will lead them to the safety of the coop. I sure hope so. I have no idea where her nest is - if I can find it I will go out at dark and move them all to a brooder.

I don’t like having hens brooding outside the coop, but I accepted that there would be risks involved in allowing my chickens to free range. The consequences of keeping them penned are just more than I am willing to put up with - for my sanity and the sake of my chickens. Even so, I worry every minute that my chickens are roaming in the yard and woods, and I lose sleep over these broodies that have nests in the woods.

I love my chickens. I really do. But I know these chickens will be the death of me.

I’m certain I’ll go with a smile on my face.

I realize there are a few things out of place in the milking/storage area of the goat barn, but if you look closely you may see one thing that positively does not belong here……

Shhhhhh. She doesn’t think we see her.

I let a broody hen hatch out three chicks and keep two of them:

I gave one to another broody.

A few days ago, yet another broody hatched out three chicks. Today I removed the front of the brooder and the mama brought her babies out into the coop for the first time.

We have no shortage of broodies here this year.

The Irises my mother gave me last year are now in full bloom.

And we should be eating strawberries soon.

Spring has definitely sprung.

As I type this, another snow storm is hitting us. But I’m not going to complain right now. I’m going to show you some of the beauty I took time to appreciate today.

Like these icicles.

Most were intertwined in the overhead netting.

But look at this interesting icicle.

And look at the face of this sweet little Phoenix hen.

The white in the face of my White Faced Black Spanish hens is really starting to show.

This girl is having a bad hair day for sure.

A lot of beauty surrounds us here on the homestead. We are truly blessed.

We finally had a couple of days where the temperature rose above freezing, and we did not hesitate to take advantage of one of them and send nine cockerels to Freezer Camp. We are now officially extra-rooster-free for the first time since last spring. And it feels great. For everyone left on the homestead, anyway!

My poor hens have spent the past few weeks running and hiding from those extra cockerels. The girls would gobble their food as quickly as possible in the morning, if they ate at all, and then run/fly out into the woods to get into the trees. Sometimes they hung out on top of buildings.

It wasn’t the cockerels fault. They were victims of nature - specifically an over abundance of teenage testosterone. But they wreaked havoc around here. From the second they woke up until the second they went to sleep, the yard was filled with the sound of hens screaming and screeching as they attempted to escape from these cockerels, and the sound of the cockerels screeching as they fought over the hens. These cockerels were never tame and, although I never laid a hand on any of them, they would scream and run anytime I walked close by them. They also crowed non-stop. I do love to hear a rooster crow - but listening to 12 crow all day and night really pushes my enjoyment level.

And even though we were aware of the chaos surrounding these nine cockerels, we really had no idea how awful it was until they were gone! The resulting calm in the yard and the flock was immediately palatable. The quietness was a blessed relief, and by late afternoon, there were no hens in trees. For the first time in weeks, the hens were out wandering in the yard with Bobby Lee and Pico. I honestly think I saw those girls smiling……

Poor old Duke is hanging in there. He spends most of his day off to himself, with one or two hens. If I live to be 100, I will never understand why he gave up being Alpha Roo, and then withdrew from the flock for the most part. It really is heartbreaking. But even though Duke has lost his place in the pecking order of the flock, he will always have a special place in my heart.

Bobby Lee’s tail feathers came back beautifully after his molt. They seem to still be growing, and he’s got a couple that now drag the ground behind him.

Pico is a sweet rooster, and I think he’s a pretty boy.

And even though the older girls aren’t laying very well right now, the pullets are providing us with enough eggs that I used 4 1/2 dozen to put up 5 quarts of pickled eggs the other day.

Pickled eggs are great. A calm flock is even better. All living things on the homestead are very happy right now.

Winter hit us early, suddenly, and relentlessly this season. It’s been so cold for so long, I can not even remember how many weeks in a row it is that we’ve had the wood stove cranking out heat. We’ve had snow on the ground since early December. Other than taking the dogs for their daily romp in the woods and caring for chickens, I have spent absolutely no time outside. As a result, I’m having a hard time coming up with things to blog about. So, today, I think I’ll just bring you up to date on a few things here on the homestead.

Remember a couple of months ago when I was trying to sex a few mutt chickens I had? Well, the verdict is in.

This Barred Rock mix?

And these two big white chickens?

Cockerels. No doubt about it. Dad gum cockerels. From the last couple of hatches late last year, I ended up with EIGHT cockerels that need to be sent to freezer camp. Ugh.

But I have to tell you, some of these mutt cockerels are absolutely gorgeous. Three of them are Phoenix/Golden Penciled Hamburg mixes. And they got the prettiest rose combs from the Hamburg side:

This girl here is a Silver Gray Dorking/Golden Penciled Hamburg mix - I must say, it makes for a “different” look:

She got the Hamburg rose comb, and the five toes of a Silver Gray Dorking.

This picture simply cracks me up. I was actually trying to get a picture of the little cockerel to the right, but look at that girl to the left:

Oh, and behind both of them? That reddish chicken? Another cockerel.

We’ll be sending most of the eight cockerels to freezer camp in the next few days. Two of them are still pretty scrawny, and I’d like to let them get a bit bigger. How big I let them get depends on how angry they make me harassing my hens in the coming weeks.

If you’re one of my Facebook friends, you know that we got some bad news concerning Diesel recently. He has had problems with his back legs for some time now, and we’ve learned that he has hip dysplasia. I guess we really knew that before we took him to the vet, but he’s so young and we were really hoping it was something that could be easily corrected. He is on high doses of glucosamine and chondroitin, and it does seem to help him quite a bit. He doesn’t really act in pain, just stiff and a little uncomfortable from time to time. Asprin seems to help that. He and Dolly still run and play every single day. Such sweet pups - we just could not ask for better companions. I just pray they are both with us for a long, long time.

Bernie’s been avoiding cabin fever by refinishing gun stocks. The house has smelled like boiled linseed oil for a while now, but goodness, it sure does make a gun stock shiny! This picture just doesn’t show the wonderful job he did on this gun.

OK, I’m going to leave you with a recipe to help warm you on one of these cold, winter evenings:

Potato Ham Soup

Ingredients:
4 cups peeled and diced potatoes
2 - 3 stalks diced celery
half of a diced onion
1 cup cooked, diced ham
4 cups chicken stock
salt, to taste
pepper, to taste
1/2 stick butter
1/4 cup all purpose flour
2 cups milk

Directions:
Combine the potatoes, celery, onion, ham, chicken stock, salt and pepper in a large pot and bring to a boil. Cook over medium heat until the potatoes are done - about 15 minutes or so.

In a medium sized bowl, whisk together the flour and milk until there are no lumps.

Once potato mixture is done, add the butter, and the milk and flour mixture. Stir until the soup is thickened.

I suppose you can leave out the butter if you want to watch the fat and calories, but I truly don’t recommend it……

This is a very hardy meal. I serve it with a side salad, or some homemade french bread.

Bon Apetite - and stay warm!

As we say farewell to 2009 and bring in 2010, I can’t help but to look back at this year and think of a few things that went a lot differently than I would have imagined…….

I was certain I would be a kid forever, but in January of 2009 I faced the only birthday that has ever bothered me.

For quite some time we had been searching for two “outside” dogs that would live in the yard and protect the chickens and property. In January we found Diesel and Dolly, who have become the only two “outside” dogs on the planet that have never actually slept outside.

And although I swore I would never let my hens hatch out babies, I got my first broody in February, and another quickly followed. I let them set on eggs, and in March, we had several new baby peeps running around the homestead. The cycle of broodies and babies would not end until late September.

2009 found me doing a few things I would have swore I would never do:

• culling a pet chicken that was ill
• operating on a roosters foot, and giving him antibiotic shots on a regular basis
• sending eight cockerels to freezer camp
• making and eating a pumpkin pie - and several other orange things

And although a few things went a little differently than I would have expected, 2009 was a wonderful year on the homestead. Our blessings have been many, our trials have been few. We’ve worked hard, learned a lot, and been thankful for each day.

Thank you sharing 2009 with me through this blog. I hope each and every one of you has a wonderful 2010, filled with love, happiness, and things that make you smile.

If you’ve spent any time at all on the Backyard Chickens forums, or any other number of chicken forums, you’ve undoubtedly heard that pumpkin seeds are a natural dewormer. I’ve done a lot of reading on this subject, and although I’ve never found anything that proves this conclusively, I will tell you that I’ve learned pumpkin seeds have been used for hundreds of years a natural dewormer for all types of pets and livestock. From dogs to horses, and even for humans. And with interest in natural products rising, there are even research grants available concerning the use of pumpkin seeds as a dewormer.

Pumpkin seeds contain an amino acid known as cucurbitin. Cucurbitin is inside the seed, and it paralyzes tapeworms and roundworms, and aids in eliminating them from the body. Some believe it takes very large quantities of pumpkin seeds to work effectively, and some do not believe it works at all,

Whether you believe in using pumpkin seeds as a dewormer for your chickens or not, one thing is for certain - they won’t hurt your chickens, and your chickens will probably love eating them! If you want to use the seeds as a dewormer, remember that the cucurbitin is inside the seed, and chickens can’t chew. You’ll want to make sure you chop the seeds a bit in a food processor, or blender, to expose the pulp of the seeds.

My chickens love a little pumpkin seed smoothie in the fall. I cut pumpkins in half, remove the seeds and put them in a food processor, along with a little buttermilk, milk, or plain yogurt, and whirl it all around until the seeds are a little chopped. Then I use the pumpkin halves as bowls, and pour a little of the smoothy in each of them.

Lordy, they do love a little pumpkin smoothie in the morning.

And when all that delicious smoothie is finished? They eat the bowl!

Remember those eggs I got from a neighbor and let my hens hatch out the end of August? Well, they are about 2 1/2 months old now and I still have no clue what breed they are. I’m certain they are mixed, but I’m just not sure what they are a mix of! And three of the six are HUGE. They also have well defined combs and waddles. I worry they are cockerels. With my original flock, I can typically sex them within 3 - 4 weeks. And some of the pullets, like the White Faced Black Spanish, do have large combs and waddles relatively early. But these three have me a little concerned. Take a look at the two large white ones in these pictures, and keep in mind they are only about 2 1/2 months old:

What do you think?

I’m certain this one’s mother is the only Barred Rock my neighbor has, and I have no idea about the father:

Cockerel or Pullet? I think they are some pretty chickens and I am just praying they are pullets. They’re friendly little things. So are the other three. The other three are smaller and I am 99.99% certain they are pullets. But these three……..

OK, the chickens have enjoyed their morning smoothie and I’ve got to get busy around here. No rest for the weary on this homestead.

Thanks to all who weighed in on helping name this little girl:

Jocelyn from Physical Possum suggested Earlene of Dork, and that’s what I’ve decided to name her. Earlene isn’t a bad name, but it was Jocelyn’s comment that won me over:

I tried reading this http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Courtesy_titles_in_the_United_Kingdom, and then my head exploded.

But if I’m only slightly reading this right:
“For example, the Duke of Norfolk is also the Earl of Arundel and the Lord Maltravers. His eldest son is therefore styled Earl of Arundel. Lord Arundel’s eldest son (should he sire one during his father’s lifetime) will be styled Lord Maltravers. However, only the Duke of Norfolk is actually a peer; his son Lord Arundel and his hypothetical grandson Lord Maltravers remain commoners.”

Then I vote for Duke’s daughter’s name to be “Earlene of Dork”

I am still uncertain how Jocelyn made the leap from the Duke-of-the-Earl-of-the-Lord-of-the-son-of-the-peer-of-the-grandson to Earlene of Dork, but the fact that she did made me laugh. So, Earlene of Dork it is! And if you need a chuckle, stop by and visit Jocelyn.

Eggs are hatching, and more hens are going broody. There are five new peeps in the coop right now and two more broodies. My neighbor gave me 12 eggs from his chickens to put under my broodies. I set them Wednesday night. Maybe you can imagine my utter SHOCK when I checked broodies Saturday and found a baby chick peeping in one of the nests! THREE DAYS after I put the eggs in there. Unfortunately, the chick was very weak, and didn’t make it through the night.

I had a chat with the neighbor and he was quite pleased that he managed to surprise me so much. As it turns out, he took the eggs from under one of his broodies to give me. And he has no idea if the eggs are all the same age. Apparently they are NOT. None of the others has even pipped yet. *sigh* I explained to him that there are 11 eggs left now and if others begin hatching the mama hens are only going to set on the remaining eggs for a day or two longer. They will abandon unhatched eggs after a couple of days of the first hatches because they need to get the babies out to eat and drink and learn how to be chickens. Of the remaining 11, I have no clue how many more, if any, will hatch. If they do stagger in hatch dates, I have a couple of broodies I can hopefully stick the unhatched eggs under.

Thanks for all the kind words of concern for Duke and his bumblefoot. Unfortunately, his foot does not seem to be healing. I continue to dress it each day, and on Sunday I began Pen-G antibiotic injections. Bernie is at the feed store as I type this - looking for terramycin powder for me. I’ve read that some have had success mixing it with an antibiotic ointment and packing the foot with it. I hate to put Duke through yet another cutting, but I’m not comfortable that I’ve gotten all I need to get out of that foot. We’ll try it one more time and pack it with terramycin powder. He takes his injections and foot dressings like a real trooper, although I can tell he is beginning to tire of the daily regiment I put him through. I am tiring of it as well. But we’ve got to get past this infection and I am hopeful the Pen-G and terramycin powder will kick in and do that.

As you can see, it’s been a chicken fried week here on the homestead. You know how anal I am with these chickens. You can imagine just what a tail spin the neighbors’ eggs and Duke’s foot have put me in. But it honestly pleases me that my most stressful days now concern chickens, rather than a two hour commute and action packed day at the office.

And I like chicken fried stuff.

Bee Free,
Penny

Amazingly, since covering the floor of Bernie’s lean-to with gravel, the chickens seem to have lost interest in scratching around under it. While that is exactly what we had hoped for, I was absolutely certain it would never work. But those chickens like to keep me guessing, and I suspect they stay out of the lean-to area just to prove they do what they want, when they want. As if I ever doubted that.

We put a metal garage on this property long before we actually moved here. Originally it was used to store the lawn mower, yard tools, shed tools, etc. We didn’t put a floor down for it, we just covered it in pine mulch and, because the ground is not completely level under it, there were many spaces that were large enough for the chickens to scoot into the garage and play in the pine mulch. When we finally moved onto the property, we began actually using the garage as a …. well…. garage. We began parking our cars and motorcycles in it. And the chickens continued to get into the garage and play in the pine mulch. They hid nests in there, and they covered everything in dust with all their scratching. I’m sure you know where this story is going…..

Yes, as you guessed, Bernie was so pleased with the gravel floor of the lean-to that he decided he wanted to put gravel down as the floor for the garage as well. So last week he started by spending a couple of days hauling dirt into the garage and leveling the floor.

When he finished he called me out to look at it. I was so pleased with all his hard work that I blurted out “If you wait until this weekend to bring in the gravel, I’ll help you with it.” And then I immediately prayed that I had only thought that and not actually SAID it. But my fears were realized when Bernie replied “OK.”

Doh! Why, oh why, can’t I learn to keep my big mouth closed?

So Saturday morning we began emptying the garage in preparation of hauling in the gravel. When we got to a corner where Bernie keeps an air compressor for the car tires, he called me over. “Watch what’s under the board this air compressor sits on.” And as he lifted the board, I saw this:

Just look at that cute Spotted Salamander. Could you not just kiss those spots right off of him? My creative juices immediately began flowing, and with every ounce of originality I possess, I named him “Sallie”. Bernie said he’d been seeing Sallie scurry out from under that board for quite some time, so I guess Sallie has declared the garage his official home.

We ended up putting Sallie in a shoe box because he nestled himself into the corner of the garage and refused to leave while we were working. We started putting gravel down at the opposite end, and when we got to the end where Sallie was, we put him in a shoe box so we could finish up.

He didn’t seem particularly crazy about the shoe box, but I was very pleased that he curled up in a corner and didn’t try to get out for the short time we kept him in there. And after we finished putting down the gravel, the first thing Bernie did was put Sallie’s board back down in the corner of the garage. And Sallie seemed pretty darn happy about that.

And then I took a picture of our beautiful, graveled, garage floor.

And now, when we close the garage doors, there are no longer any spaces the chickens can scoot through to get inside the garage.

When we were finished, I took the pups down to get mail and to look at what’s left of the ton of gravel we had delivered.

My muscles go into spasms every time I look at that dwindling pile of gravel. Just looking at that pile and knowing how much work Bernie and I had done wore poor Diesel slap out. He sat at the edge of the woods by the cabin recuperating for quite a while.

And Dolly offered quite a bit of sympathy.

And then they forgot all about the pile of gravel and hard work Bernie and I had done and told me it was time to take them home and feed them. Which is exactly what I did. Just because I’m just so dad-gum helpful.

Bee Free,
Penny