Snowstorm

And the horses love it. Ben and Sally rolled around, kicked up their heels and played in it before settling down to the business of disposing of a great pile of hay.

I snapped this pic of Ben as he stopped for a moment before turning to trot across the paddock again.

In Brief...

...I haven't posted since, well, October, right? Which probably means, of course, that either absolutely nothing is going on (or nothing is going on worth writing about) or so much is going on that I can't find two consecutive minutes to patch together a coherent thought. It's a bit of the former but much more of the latter, and the holiday season has contributed a dash or two of crazy as well. But things are chugging along.

Actually, I am in the process of separating the two blogs - finally. Carriage House Farm will redirect to a new location soon, and White Stone Studio will become a Wordpress.org blog. Yay! I have been in the studio more and yeah, enjoying it enormously. And great good fortune has come my way, in the form of blueberry plants (both high-  and low bush varieties), purchased at the end of the season at a whopping 50% off. Since it was too late in the year to put them in the ground, they are currently nestled under a snug blanket of straw by the compost pile, waiting out the winter until they can be transplanted in the spring. My original purchase numbered twenty-nine plants, but I sold a few to a friend, so I now have twenty-two; they are varied so pollination (and, subsequently fruit) shouldn't be a problem.

And who doesn't love blueberries? They're basically the BEST fruit you can eat. This year I plan to bring down a few wild raspberry cultivars (the best ones I can find) from the woods. They taste okay but with a little TLC they should yield a tastier fruit. My grape vines had been cut back last year so they probably won't bear much this year.

I have also ordered ten new trees; several each of peach, cherry and apple and two flowering Dogwoods. Having planted two varieties of plum and one variety of apple last year, the additional trees will give us a very good start on our orchard. My garden is nearly planned and I have received my seed catalogues in the mail; all that remains now is to send in my order.

The chickens have been molting at intervals. One of our Delawares was really rather alarming looking for about a month; she looked like something you'd see under plastic wrap in a supermarket (with a few poofs of down clinging to her), except she was scratching around the barnyard diligently searching for bugs. Her new set of feathers have been restored to her and she looks beautiful now, but for a few weeks...yeah. Iffy. But then any molting bird looks a bit pitiful.

The chicks born over the summer have now become a laying pullet (at nineteen weeks of age), and a huge white rooster, with an apricot colored barred pattern over his wings. He's Buddy's offspring, probably by a Buff Orpington, and he's enormous, very long legs, quite beautiful. The ladies are still laying ten - fourteen eggs per day, even though I am not lighting the coop and they have my express permission to take a vacation. They are as busy as ever.

I have at least one Silkie roo (and prayerfully not two), and three of the Guinea fowl (one female and two males) have been relocated to my neighbor's farm. I still have one female and two males, and will probably acquire one more female this spring for a more balanced ratio. They seem happier than they were with four males and only two females in their group, except for the odd male out, and I'll remedy his romantic melancholy soon.

I'll update with photos as soon as I am able. It's Christmas Day and I am in my pajamas, reading, watching old movies, relaxing after a wonderful day yesterday of family, friends, food (yummy food!) and so much more, all done in honor of the birth of our King.

So Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year! More to come...

Time Out For...

...some really yummy stuff.

As in...freshly picked, and I mean right off the vine, tomatoes, of all varieties (red, orange, purple and yellow), beautiful Heirlooms, roasted with smoked French Sea Salt with red wine and juniper, basil and/or oregano, garlic and a drizzle of real olive oil.

I must have roasted, bagged and frozen 10 - 15 large pans of these beauties. They will form the basis for some delicious sauces and soups over the winter months. The bounty of fresh food this autumn has been amazing, and humbling; the ritual of the harvest, of gathering food and preserving it for later use connects one to the earth in such a way that one tends to reflect; in my case, upon the Creator as the One who sustains all that is needful for food to grow. (Yes, I know there is famine; I know there is and has been drought, but there is also abundance, abundance that ought to spill over to fill the baskets of those whose harvests have been slim. It's shameful that what arises in people's hearts to do so often does not, cannot take shape because of policy or the political jockeying of men and women who lay claim to authority. I mean...just TRY to give away surplus crops if you're a farmer in this country. See what happens. Likewise, so much food sent to those who need it so often becomes a weapon in the hands of those whose aim is Power and the subjugation of their fellow human beings.)

Friends of mine who are expert in the craft of canning generously filled some jars with sauce, salsa and soup; they are in a place of honor in my pantry. I also have sauerkraut fermenting naturally on my counter top;  I estimate it will be ready right around New Year's Eve (and it will probably be spectacular). And if all goes well, I should see some northern high bush blueberry plants arriving by mail to be planted in the ground before the end of the month.

I am truly grateful to God for this incredible bounty and for the neighbors and friends who have shared so freely and generously with us.Would that we should all love our neighbors so.

Silkies!

Need I say more? And my neighbor gave me two! Sooo cute. I mean, really. I am sorely tempted to buy a couple of chicken diapers, plunk them on the little sweeties and bring them in the house. But I have a feeling DH would be severely annoyed by such a move on my part, so they're staying in the coop, but man. Such cuddly little things!

I Should Just Call This...

...The chicken blog. Man. I am BORING.

Yes. Other events are transpiring in my life; it's just that, being a private person, there's only so much I am willing to blab about on the Interwebz. So, chickens it is.

Lookit my baby roo - all of 20 weeks old and such a pretty, laid-back boy! He only recently began crowing (seriously - maybe Sunday) and it's hilarious. Sort of a "whoooo who who who whoooooo" sound, all hoarse, like a teenage boy whose voice is changing.

He's a cross between Stonewall and...? I have Red Stars, Buff Orpingtons, Delawares, Black Australorps, Silver-Laced Wyandottes and Barred Rocks. Anyone want to venture a guess?

On a much sadder note, one of my Red Stars has been missing since Friday. I have no idea what took her (airborne raptor or ground-dwelling predator), but I miss her. I have been very vigilant - and very much a presence around the flock (much to Stonewall's annoyance) since then, but I can't babysit them all the time. They are now free-ranging part of the day and going into the run earlier; hopefully that will mitigate any further losses. :(

Here is Hazelnut, one of the other mixes from the April hatch. I had thought she was the result of a Stonewall X Barred Rock hen, but now I'm not so sure. She is barred, and Barred Plymouth Rock Roosters always pass along barring to offspring (dominant trait). However - the plot thickens: I'm not 100% sure Buddy is a Barred Rock Rooster. I was looking at him the other day and he looks a bit like a Cuckoo Marans to me. Would a Barred Rock hen pass along the barring trait to offspring? I dunno.

Color me confused, but this girl is stocky, round and wide for her age (20 weeks); she's every bit as big as the full-grown hens, and I like her, even if I really have no idea how she came to be (genetically speaking). Oh, and she's laying little brown pullet eggs.

Posers

The latest batch of baby chicks are now three weeks old and furiously feathering out; the one on the right bears a resemblance to a couple of the chicks born in April who are now closing in on 19 weeks old. It will be interesting to see if she will be jet black like the others (except for the Barred Rock mix, who is a nice big girl with an ambiguous barring pattern, and the young roo, who is resplendent in his emerging suit of blue-green iridescence with bronze hackle and saddle feathers). These babies are also growing up in the coop and doing very well. I think next year I may buy hatching eggs from people who raise the breeds I want and let a broody raise them. It makes life so much easier.

Update 9/18/2012: The yellow chick is now five weeks old - and is bigger than any five-week-old chick I have seen thus far. He or she (not sure at this point - but leaning toward this one being a roo) has feathered out quickly and has a very different feathering pattern than the other chick. I'm very interested to see how this one continues to develop.

Sally

Sally streaming past the fence line at dusk. She looks like a ghost horse. For some reason, I like this photo.

By Any Other Name

A project I have assigned to myself that I absolutely must accomplish is the propagation of my roses. They may be about to pass out of my hands forever, and I have worked long and hard over the course of many years to cultivate them, that they may bloom robustly every year, scattering the grass with pale pink petals when the blossoms drop after a period of weeks. They are beautiful, and I want them to flourish here - who knows but that they may be uprooted where they are and thrown out on the trash heap? They do have thorns, and thorns are an inconvenience. Not everyone can appreciate the prickly beauty of a rose.

It is therefore imperative that I don't allow the tyranny of the banal to so overwhelm my days that I don't give the time to this endeavor that it deserves. Although I don't feel an urge to list them, there are reasons why this is something I just need to do.

Some photos from a couple of years ago:

Broody, Take 3

DH, who has become the unwitting (and loving) co-caretaker of an increasingly odd* assortment of animals (because A. he has a wife who loves critters and B. he is extremely good natured about it all), was, a few months ago, somewhat taken aback when our first set of broodies presented us with four baby chicks. "I thought chickens were simple, and here I find out that they have MOODS," he complained. Well, yes. They have moods. They go broody, because this is what they were designed for - to put it clinically, to propagate their species, or, to put it a bit more warmly, to brood over, hatch and rear babies. Life is insistent, life will have its way, and unless one has been completely eaten up by cynicism, one can't help but find it a marvelous thing.

Those four baby chicks, by the way, have matured into three robust and hardy pullets and one beautiful cockerel, all of them having benefited from hybrid vigor, the result of cross-breeding. At fifteen weeks of age, the pullets are nearly as large as the full grown hens.

So, once again, life won out. A third hen (an Australorp, but a different one) went broody several weeks ago, and despite my efforts to persuade her to take up other projects (like laying eggs), she stuck to her guns, and consequently this was the scene in the coop this weekend:

* By way of example, we have a Red Star chicken named Little Char who has decided she no longer wants to be a chicken. She has moved in with the guineas. The guineas, for their part, seem happy to have her on board. Little Char steadfastly refuses the chicken coop in the evening and lingers by the door to the guinea coop until I let her in, where she contentedly roosts with her adopted family until morning.

So there it is.

UPDATE: I tried the feather sexing technique on the chicks at the day-old mark and according to this site: Feather Sexing Pullets & Cockerels - I should have two females. Here's hoping.

More Progress

Although it seems as though the to-do list is never-ending, my schedule has been balancing out of late and allowing me more time in my loft studio. Did I ever mention that there is a huge room on the second floor of the barn that will one day, Lord willing, be completely made over into studio space? It's enormous, and already framed out; it will need insulation, drywall, flooring and a heating/cooling system, but the "bones" are there. Lots of natural light, quiet, away from the house. One of these days, perhaps once more pressing matters have been addressed.

Anyway - much has been happening in the last few days (the gas and oil companies are in the area) - but more on that in a day or two.

This is coming along nicely and although it's drawn on rough watercolor paper (not really ideal), I like the way it's starting to come together. This piece, and a few others (providing my schedule stays uneventful) should be finished soon and I'll post more photos.

And of course, I forgot to include the boy's hands, which are holding the cat. *Sigh* If you look closely, you can see them in the second photo. Looks like I'll have to try this again.

Rumblings & Rain

I saw the sky darken and the motion lights on the barn come on, so I grabbed the camera and went for a walk (yes, I like to be outdoors during a thunderstorm). The wind was blowing, the trees were dancing, and the clouds were diving down from heaven.

Beautiful.

Looking uphill from the back of the barn. 

 

The top of the barn, framed by swirling storm clouds.

The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just quartering a tree.
                                            ~ Emily Dickinson

It's Spa Day!

 

And the horses couldn't have been more thrilled! In fact, had they suddenly been blessed with the ability to communicate verbally, they could not have articulated more clearly how perfectly delighted martyred they felt at having been led away from their pile of hay to stand for the farrier. The entire enterprise was accompanied by deep sighs, face-making, half-hearted attempts (when they decided they were just soooo tired, too tired, in fact, to stand up) to lay on the farrier, and other minor bits of nonsense. Of course, my horses are simply too well-mannered and polite to engage in any real misbehavior (they pick up their feet when asked and never offer to kick, strike or bite), but because the day was warm and humid, all they asked of life was to be allowed to eat, drink and laze the afternoon away. Standing for the farrier represented work, and, as anyone who is owned by horses knows, equines avoid work most assiduously when possible, particularly on hot summer days.

  

Mr. "B" (our farrier said I could use pics of him as long as I didn't use his name. He simply doesn't need any more clients) works on Ben's right front hoof. Mr. "B" is an excellent farrier; he takes his time, lets me know if anything might be amiss, gives me suggestions on hoof care and never, ever loses his cool with the horses. Farriery is seriously hard work, and he does a fantastic job.

Ben having his back left hoof done and...

 ...making faces at me (I'm holding him) while Mr. "B" re-sets his back shoes. Ben is a really tall horse (17.1h), which tends to intimidate people; however, he is also one of the sweetest horses I have ever met. He just turned 24 years old this past April.

 Nicely trimmed feet.

Then it was Sally's turn...

Getting her in place. The Guineas seem concerned.

And the trimming commences. Mr. "B" uses a rasp to file down parts of the hoof.

Sally bears her fate with patient resignation. Actually, she's very nearly asleep.

Sally had thoughtfully rolled in some mud just prior to her appointment with the farrier and I didn't have time to brush it off, so she looks a little, well, muddy. At 25+ years old (at least), Sally is our Old Lady, but she still likes to go riding, provided she doesn't have to go very far, or move very fast. She has a very smooth, sweet little trot and is an all-around nice horse.

Here we are in the homestretch - last hoof that needed a trim and re-set, and then Sally was free to return to her stall where, along with Ben, she received several apple & carrot treats by way of compensation for the indignities visited upon her person, along with a couple of flakes of hay and a re-fill of her water bucket.

Ah. Life is good.

Can You Say...

...baby rooster?

I can!!! His hackle feathers are growing in and you can just see the pointy saddle feathers starting to fall over his back. He looks like he might mature into a good-looking boy, but time will tell. He's eleven weeks old today, but so far I haven't heard him crow, or even make an attempt at it.

The other chicks look to be pullets - this is the only one with such prominent and brightly colored comb and wattles. Sexing them by appearance is hardly the most reliable way to go about it; nonetheless, this one is a boy.

Remember those cute little Guinea keets? They're growing up into some seriously funny looking birds, and believe me, they are as entertaining as they appear. The scourge of ticks everywhere, they have been in a run adjacent to their coop for a couple of weeks, learning their "territory," preparing for the big moment when they will be allowed out to free-range and snap up every wretched biting bug and garden pest that they can get their beaks on. We finally arrived at suitable names for the six of them:

Gandalf
Galadriel
Gimli
Galen
Gareth
Gracie

We may have to revise their names if we find we have more than two females - which is a possibility - but for now, these are the names that our Guineas definitely do not answer to and in fact, elaborately ignore.

Ruminations

Made Fried Irish Cabbage (a jazzed up recipe) for dinner tonight, served with buttered noodles and a thick slab of homemade bread slathered with European-style butter (yes, there is a difference). 'Twas very, very good, and all of it real food, raised locally and obtained from clean sources.

This is how I make it:

Ingredients
1 12 - 14 oz. package bacon, no nitrates or nitrites, very little sugar
1/4 cup bacon drippings
2 cloves garlic
1 med. onion
1 large green pepper, chopped fine
1 large red pepper, chopped fine
2 large tomatoes, chopped
1 small head cabbage, cored and finely chopped or shredded
1/4 c. chicken broth
Ground black pepper/salt to taste

(Olive oil as needed)

Directions
Cook bacon in a deep skillet over medium heat until crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Remove bacon from skillet and drain on a paper towel-lined plate. Reserve 1/4 cup drippings in skillet.
Saute finely chopped garlic, onion and green and red peppers in bacon fat until soft
Add chopped tomatoes
Add cabbage and cook over medium heat until cabbage wilts, 5 to 7 minutes. Add a dash of olive oil if necessary.
Add 1/4 c. chicken broth, combine all ingredients in skillet well. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes.
Add bacon back, crumbling over cabbage. Stir and simmer until bacon is warmed, 5 minutes. Season to taste with salt/black pepper. Serve over buttered noodles.

So.

I've been doing quite a bit of reading on the subject of natural healing. My paternal grandmother, who passed away in the 1980's, had an extensive knowledge of the medicinal use of food and herbs/spices, which, for some inexplicable reason, no one in her immediate family bothered to ever learn, preserve or pass down. My father and his siblings grew up wearing medicine bags - a practice they tired of and cast aside once they were grown and out in the world - but (oddly enough), they were rarely sick as children. Although Grandma was a Christian and this practice may have represented a bit of lingering syncretism (likely a legacy from previous generations), my understanding is that she chose to focus on the actual properties of the herbs, flowers, etc., she used in her healing work as opposed to seeing them in an esoteric light.

All that to say that, having fought a few recent battles with inflammation, and upon finding that I'm the object of affection of biting insects this summer (and no, DH isn't affected. Go figure. I'm covered in itchy welts and he is completely unscathed), I am rather more attentive than I typically am to the  possibilities conferred by the medicinal use of herbs and spices. None of this is actually new to me, but it may be time both to make a habit (in terms of practice) of what I do know and seek out new sources of information. I wish I knew what my grandmother knew.

Turmeric, for example, is a potent anti-inflammatory that also possesses antioxidant properties. It has evidently been the subject of a number of clinical studies attempting to ascertain its effect on various disorders. Early results seem promising. Ginger is another powerful anti-inflammatory/antioxidant. And of course, my seasonal favorite - blueberries! I picked enough to fill two buckets just the other day and plan to return before the month is out for another round - one simply can't eat too many blueberries. My opinion, of course. No one has to agree with me.

Disclaimer: I'm not a healthcare professional. I'm an artisan/educator, and I'm not making any recommendations, so let's get that on the record. OK? OK, good.

However, Hippocrates said "let your food be your medicine" (he was the same guy who also said "first, do no harm" - not in the Oath, but in the Corpus). Westerners have, for too long perhaps, allowed others to do their thinking for them where these matters are concerned. While there is a great deal of quackery out there, insisting on its cacophonous claims,  I believe there is much to be said for an informed review of the evidence for the use of God-given herbs, spices and other foodstuffs in the cause of wellness and good health.

And that's where it all stands at the moment - this moment - in time. More later.

Fallingwater

DH and I made a quick get-away a week or so ago (leaving the animals in the hands of a kindly and experienced temporary care-giver) and headed to Fallingwater for a couple of days. For those of you who may not know, Fallingwater is American architect Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece of organic architectural design. Surrounded by a woodland and situated over Bear Run Creek, the house features floors made from sandstone quarried on-site (ideas!) and is primarily fabricated from concrete and steel. Built by the Kaufmann family as a "cabin in the woods" in the late 1930's for $155, 000 (including the $8, 000 Wright was paid for his designs), the house was given, with artwork and furnishings intact, to the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy in the early 1960's.

I haven't been to Fallingwater in a very long time. It is still an amazing conceptual work of art. And the place smells great! - moss, trees, water, earth - the elements of nature, along with the arresting visual impact of the house, inside and out, combine to give the viewer a nearly complete sensory experience.

Plus - we were able to get away from the endless work and challenges (i.e. problems) here and actually relax. It was fun. And having fun is important.

Toad of Toad Hall...

...says 'allo!

This is one singularly unimpressed toad. I found him in the barn and followed him outside to digitally preserve his countenance for posterity, and although he proved a most cooperative subject, he seemed bored with the entire enterprise and hopped off shortly thereafter. Lest you think I have so much time on my hands that I must resort to photographing toads in order to feel useful and productive, allow me to disabuse you of this notion. I simply found my little toad friend visually interesting. I even like the word "toad."

Updates!

The baby chicks are growing up quickly - and have officially entered their awkward phase, where they look less like chicks and more like some strange hybrid - the homely, but cute anyway stage. I believe I see at least one, if not two cockerels in the Gang of Four, but they are still too young for me to be able to tell definitively. Three are Black Australorp crosses, and one is a Barred Rock cross. They have done very well growing up in the coop - much better than I expected. They know to stay out of the way of their elders, who are quick to deliver a reprimand when the kids violate the established pecking order; still, none of the older girls have actually harmed them in any way and the roosters have been exemplary. Stonewall has, on occasion, appeared to actually baby-sit the youngsters, and (as he does for the ladies) he will call when he finds food for them.

This is Red Top, our newest resident. She came to us by way of DH's co-worker; she was the last chicken he owned, and, as he and his wife were retiring, they asked if we would take her. She appears to be a cross of some sort; very sweet and docile. She has made a few friends already and is doing very well in her new flock.

We are in the process of constructing a new shelter for the Guineas, who are ready to move out of the brooder and into some bigger digs. I still need three more names beginning with the letter "G." I suppose it isn't a matter of any particular urgency, since I don't expect they'll care one way or the other, but the matter feels incomplete.

That's it for now - I need to get this blog in shape; it's too chaotic even for me. Hopefully I'll have time to do that soon; you know, after I muck stalls, clean out the coop, etc., etc. One thing about this life - the days spin past very quickly.

Trying Someting New

Trying new templates...admittedly I'm not really very good at this stuff (my background is in the fine arts), so it may take a bit of doing for this blog to go online in its final form.

Oh well. Life is learning. And, apparently, deciphering code.

I think I've been through seven or eight templates. I don't have the patience for this tonight, so...maybe I'll try again tomorrow.

Not So Fast

Did I say onto other subjects? Well, almost. My recent fascination with all things fowl won't permit

me to exclude the progress (photographically speaking) the Guinea keets have made over the last couple of weeks:

They have been feathering nicely and making quite a mess of their brooder (they are in a giant 50 gallon Rubbermaid container with a chicken wire lid), which means I clean it out daily. These little guys are nothing like chicks, by the way - they are more akin to wild birds and are skittish and nervous, though I handle and play with them frequently. To help DH, who for the life of him still cannot tell our chickens apart except by breed, all our Guineas will have names beginning with the letter "G." So far I have named three of them - Gandalf, Gimli and Galadriel (the whole male/female thing, and how many we have of each is still a mystery). Not that we expect them to come when called - it's just that we have a seemingly irresistible urge to name everything.

So - NOW I can move on. I think. Perhaps. Except that I found the next breed of chicken I MUST have - it's called a Swedish Flower Hen (look it up). Gorgeous bird. (I don't know what it is about birds, but I like having them around.) So...yeah. We'll see.

It's A Big World...

...for such small creatures.

The four chicks have been ranging all over the back yard with Mama Belle over the last few days. All four now know where the coop is and how to jump back into it - even if they're a little intimidated by the bigger chickens (a couple are a bit testy and likely to peck at the youngsters if they become annoying). Pictures of yesterday's Big Adventures:

So far the chicks have been thriving - I have seen no signs of illness and they are curious, lively and extremely quick. The chicks hatched by the Buff Orpington will be one month old on Wednesday, and the other two will be one month old this coming Sunday. I think at least one egg had been "donated" by a Barred Rock pullet - the others are a mystery - Australorp, maybe, I can't tell.

Anyway - they are adorable, and this has been a lot of fun. Onto other subjects. Hopefully.

Belle Takes Over

Our Australorp mama has seemingly given up on the motherhood project. She had been taking her chicks outside to forage almost from the time they were hatched, whereas Belle, the Buff Orpington, has yet to bring her babies out of the run. On Monday Sarah left the two chicks - who are far too young and defenseless to be outside on their own - twice to re-join her flock.

Fortunately I found them before the barn cats had a chance to make a snack out of either of them. I tried putting them back with their mother, but she seemed only vaguely interested; really, she had almost a puzzled air about her as though she couldn't quite remember where she had seen these chicks before. When she left them alone a second time, I decided to give them to Belle. I watched for any aggressive behavior on Belle's part, but she simply took over, clucking and scratching and showing the youngsters where and how to find food. Although the two foster chicks displayed some trepidation about getting into the nest with Belle and her two babies, once I placed them beside her they dove under her. Tonight they needed no encouragement - when I checked on everyone before shutting up he coop and run, I saw four little faces peering out from underneath Belle, and she seemed very content to have suddenly added two more chicks to her brood.

Sarah, the Australorp, spent some time huddled by the run this evening. She seemed a little dejected. I felt sorry for her, but the chicks have adjusted to Belle, she has, for all intents and purposes, adopted them, so better to let things stay as they lay. Sarah did a good job; she's just a youngster herself at seven months old, and this was her first time raising chicks, so perhaps she'll get better with time and practice.

Pictures to follow. I spent Mother's Day hunting arrowheads. I got a few interesting chips, a couple of fossils and part of a stone axe. Plan to do that again - soon!

Update: Belle really is a terrific broody. Here she is relaxing in her part of the run this evening with all four chicks under her. Shortly after I took these photos she retired to her nest (rigged from a big plastic dog crate, filled with straw bedding, food and water inside. The metal front door of the crate is wrapped with hardware cloth to keep critters out and the crate is positioned on two pieces of wood to keep it off the ground. As a final flourish the entire arrangement is wrapped in a heavyweight, waterproof Weatherbeeta horse blanket to keep things insulated and dry. So far it has all worked really well).

Growing Up

The baby chicks are feathering out and growing up. Their lives are very different from those of the chicks I raised in a brooder last September; for one thing, the outdoor temperatures fluctuate wildly, the babies are often in the elements (wind and on one or two occasions, rain) - yet they seem to be doing fine, at least so far. Their mothers have taught them to eat their food from the ground, so while they have chick feeders, and age-appropriate food, they also spend a great deal of time scratching and foraging for food that hasn't been manufactured, bagged and sold in a store.

The babies hatched by Belle (the Buff Orpington) are now two weeks and two days old. The chicks belonging to Sarah (the Australorp) will be two weeks old on Sunday. They are all so similar. The black chicks have brown eyes and black legs, the "patchy" chicks have black legs and orange toes! I have never had to wait to find out if I have a cockerel in the bunch, so I'm kind of anxious and trying to guess which one(s), if any, may be baby boy chicks.

Because these little ones haven't been handled much, they are wild, and very quick! It is extremely difficult to even take photos of them now, but I managed to snap a few today.  Belle's babies:

Sarah's two babies, who will be two weeks old this coming Sunday:

We also have six new Guinea keets (Pearl Guineas, and they're a straight run, so I have no idea how many are females and how many are males):

Things are getting lively!

Baby Chickens

OK, yes, I'm stuck on mama chickens and their babies. I'm in a rut and I'm probably coming off as one fantastic bore. But, transplanted urbanite that I am, I've never actually watched broody mama pullets hatch AND rear their own young, and I find it fascinating. I obtained my flock initially by purchasing and brooding them in, well, a brooder and acting as substitute mama to them...but now, having observed these little ones with their mama pullets (and they are just pullets themselves - only seven-and-a-half months old) over the last few days, I am very nearly convinced that the best way to add to a flock is the old-fashioned way - by allowing the broody pullet/hen to hatch and rear the chicks herself. The babies live naturally and learn from their mothers how to forage, dust themselves, preen, drink - everything a young chicken needs to know. Broodies are fiercely protective and will even take down a rooster who gets too close to their precious offspring.

As far as the work is concerned - there isn't much to do. I keep them safe and provide food and water, but I don't have to worry about whether the temperature in the brooder is too warm or too cool; mama keeps those babies toasty warm under her downy feathers. She does everything else, too! I draw up a chair and watch the Buff Orpington (Belle) mama clucking to her chicks, dropping food in front of them, calling to them and teaching them; believe me, they imitate her every move. Belle is a good mama; she will definitely be allowed to hatch more babies in the future.

One of the babies in the protected run today. Notice how quickly her feathers are growing!

The two babies Sarah hatched have been out and active, although still on the nest. I imagine she will want to get them outside tomorrow, so I'll have to watch to make sure the barn cats give her a wide berth and that the other ladies aren't hostile to the chicks. She has been in the coop with her babies, so the others are more aware of her than they are of Belle's chicks, although Belle is now in an area adjacent to the run, so they see her everyday. I am employing this method of re-integrating Belle, hoping that her chicks will eventually be integrated as well with as little disruption to the pecking order as possible.

All four of the chicks are black and buff/silver, and both Sarah and Belle each have a black chick with a buff patch under her beak - so cute! Sarah's other chick has more buff/silver patches; it will be interesting to see how her color pattern develops with age, especially given that this guy is the father:

Broody Pullets & Babies, cont.

The Australorp had been sitting two eggs and because she was in the coop, where she was often made to share her nest with her flockmates, I had my doubts about whether her eggs would in fact hatch. I really didn't think they would.

It just goes to show you what I know. Over the weekend BOTH eggs hatched and both babies seem to be doing really well. Once the first chick hatched and the second egg was pipping, I moved her into her own nest in a cage in the coop, moved her baby and the pipping egg in with her, covered the cage with a tarp to give her some privacy and she has seemed perfectly content. The second egg hatched overnight and she has two adorable babies.

The Buff Orpington mama has moved to a temporary coop in a screened off part of the run, where she has been showing her babies how to scratch around and find food. They have a feeder and waterer in the run, but she routinely knocks the feed over and shows the chicks how to scratch the earth and eat their food from the ground. Sometimes she'll drop feed in front of them. They seem fine; drinking and eating the way she wants them to, so for now I'm leaving her to her time-tested methods.