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!

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.

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."

Raptor

Walked out with DH to the barn this morning to feed the animals, and, lo and behold, a gigantic bird of prey was perched on top of the antique grain shed! I quietly stepped inside the house, grabbed my camera, but by the time I fumbled around with it and it made all the requisite noises and requests prior to assuming the "on" position (silly camera), the bird had taken flight, so all I got was this:

By this time it was pretty far away from me - and look how huge it is! And no, it wasn't a Turkey Buzzard; having grown up in this general area, I know what they look like. Not a hawk; I see hawks all the time. This bird made both DH and me stop in our tracks. We both got a good look at it while it was on the shed, and I am 99% certain it was a Golden Eagle (although I'm certainly no ornithologist). What a moment! Needless to say the ladies have been confined to their run for the day. I hope, too, that the barn cats decide to write this cold, dreary day off and nap in the hay.

Second photo - the wing tip feathers can just be seen by zooming in on the pic:

If it wasn't a Golden Eagle, then I'm stumped! I wish I had gotten the photo of the bird perched on the grain shed, against the backdrop of the fir and pine trees - it was truly a magnificent sight!

Cute, Eh?

I found the little egg in one of the nests the other day, and yeah, I had to save it. It's almost as though a small bird flew in and left it - very diminutive, and therefore cute. The middle egg is of average size; about what the ladies give us every day/every other day.

We've had a few of what I call "rocket' eggs, really large ones, even larger than the one shown. Too large for six-month old pullets, methinks.

Still, the range is interesting.

Rainy day, inside, about to bake more of this:

I baked it a couple of days ago, and it's gone already. I think I may make an herbal loaf (rosemary, or something). Haven't decided yet.

Festive Friday

Well, the gang had quite the little treat today!
I hard-boiled some of their eggs (older and cracked ones) -
Made up a pot of oatmeal -
Crushed the eggs (with shells) into the cooked oatmeal -
Opened a can of pumpkin near the expiration date, added two big glops -
Added some crushed red pepper flakes, turmeric and garlic (good for gastrointestinal chicken workings). Whew! Good thing chickens can't smell.

Took it outside. They came running immediately.
Added some of their layer mash and scratch seeds to the mess. It looked sort of like...alien egg salad. But a weirder color.

By this time, they were all waiting outside the tack room. Some were peeking in through the cat access door. Impatiently. Tapping their little chicken toes on the concrete.

Emerged with the bowl in my arms, and proceeded to spoon out the gunk into their flat Tupperware dishes. Old ones, you know, that we don't use anymore.

THEY WENT WILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone had some, and some more, and YAY! PARTY! And some more. YAY! (again)...peck, peck, peck...chickens waddling everywhere with egg/oatmeal/whatever all over their beaks, faces - oh, the joy of just snarfing something extra yummy on a Friday afternoon! And then to doze in the sun!

Later, I came back out to take some photos of some lazy pasture-ranging as the day wore on:

Stonewall and one of the girls relaxing on the cart:

Buddy patrolling the front of the barn:

In other news, a clandestine friendship has apparently sprung up between an evidently lonely bachelor pheasant and several of our ladies. I caught them together on the loft side of the hill (again) this afternoon:

He had spotted me by the time I took the picture and retreated to the left side of the rain barrel. He is gorgeous, very vividly colored, so who knows - maybe the ladies think him an odd but companionable sort of fellow, a rooster! maybe, then again...maybe not, but hey, whatever, plenty of room to hang out, so yeah...let's!

Happy Friday!
Happy Spring!

The Newbie

Isn't he a beauty? Allow me to introduce Buddy, our new Plymouth Barred Rock cockerel. He was dropped off by persons unknown at my neighbor's house a few evenings ago, poor fellow. My neighbor brought him to us to determine if he might be a good fit for the flock, and, since we had been considering acquiring a youngish roo (one that wouldn't challenge our alpha male), we took him in. Stonewall, our adult rooster, is teetering upon the brink of exhaustion in his zeal to keep up with twenty-four ladies who seemingly have minds of their own. A junior cadet might be just the ticket...as long as he keeps to his rank, that is.

He spent a couple of nights sequestered in a cage, away from the others, and DH let him out today after the others had had a chance to inspect him (he really should have been quarantined for 30 days, but DH made the call). Stonewall immediately stepped between the interloper and his girls, dropped a wing, circled and pushed him to the edge of the group, assisted by a couple of indignant ladies who flew at Buddy for good measure. Buddy wandered away, cooperative, if a bit lost.

This went on for the greater part of the afternoon. The two males did not fight, and I was frankly (and quite pleasantly) surprised, but Stonewall did keep a sharp eye on the newcomer, broke up spats, prevented any romantic, er, interludes from taking place (not that the ladies were entertaining overtures), and generally kept order in the yard. Impressive achievements for a creature almost universally disdained as stupid. (Chickens aren't stupid, by the way. They are charming. And very good at being exactly what they were created to be.)

Buddy exploring his surroundings:

He had cautiously re-approached the far orbit of the flock by evening and, upon finding that he was, by then, huffily tolerated by most of the ladies and the celestial ego object Stonewall himself, he happily pecked around the coop before retiring for the night.

Morning

The view this morning:

Winter is sensing that she is needed elsewhere, and bends to gather her long white cape about her to betake herself to other lands; the geese are beginning their long flight back to northern climes and baby animals will soon be instructed in the art of survival by their mamas. Spring, and the promise of new life is nearly here, repeating a cycle as old as the earth itself.

The light is changing again, and seems to flood all living creatures - and even inanimate objects - with a hale and hearty anticipation of good things to come. (Hope.) It seems alive, this Light. It is certainly a joyful thing to awake in it, to watch as it dances through the windows in the morning hours of a never-before-day.

Despite the challenges we have faced (and continue to face), I know I am tremendously blessed to be able to live this way - to have been entrusted with the care and stewardship of this spot of earth and the animals who flourish upon it, to be able to walk into the barn every morning and hear the welcoming nickers of our horses. My raucous (and often demanding) ladies make me smile as they crowd around me at feeding time, hoping for treats, as do the barn cats, who leap and run ahead of me each morning as I bring their food to the tack room. These moments may seem insignificant to others, and that's okay. I receive them as gifts from a loving and bountiful Creator.

I'm grateful. For my life, exactly as it is, and for every obstacle and trial that has sculpted my soul; for my family, friends, home (yes, even with everything that we have had to contend with), but most of all, I am grateful for my Savior and Lord, who loves me greatly, and teaches me daily to love him, love others and trust in his goodness.

Chicken Update

The girls are doing so well - growing rapidly, putting on weight and feathering out nicely. Their feathers are soft, glossy and colorful. The Black Australorps, like the one shown above, are starting to exhibit their signature iridescent green-blue sheen; they are truly beautiful birds.

DH and I cleaned out the coop today - we took advantage of the (once again) mild but RAINY (ugh) day to pitch out used straw, line the floor with sawdust and food grade diatomaceous earth, over which we spread a thick layer of fresh straw and another layer of sawdust under the roosts. We cleaned out the nesting boxes and relined them with wood shavings and straw.

The coop never smells; I remove "bad spots" and clean out the area under the roosts frequently, but I was glad we were able to fit in one more thorough cleaning ahead of the coming cold snap. All in all, we've had an extremely mild autumn and winter so far, thank the Lord. I can cool off much more efficiently than I can warm up, so I tend not to like cold weather much (actually, I don't like it at all). What little cold weather we have had hasn't affected the chickens; however, keeping humidity down inside the coop has been a bit of an issue, so even though the coop is vented above the roosts, I try to leave the screened windows open on mild, breezy days to increase airflow.

My girls are very social and friendly to people; when I show up, even with the camera (and without treats, which is rare), they come running, almost as though they want to be photographed, so I had some fun snapping photos today. Inquisitive, curious, with personalities as individual as they are, chickens add so much to a home. I don't think we will ever be without them, Lord willing.

Stonewall, or SIR, as I refer to the rooster, is more a little more skeptical. He is usually fine with me in the coop; every so often he will try to assert himself and I respond by picking him up and taking him for a walk. Nothing he hates more than to be separated from his ladies! After what amounts to time out, he usually calms down for awhile. I really can't find fault with the fellow for doing what he is hard-wired to do, as long as he shows some manners to his humans.

More pictures:

Hello!

My "walking flowers" in the run today.

"Hey chooks!"

Two of our Buff Orpingtons looking over the refurbished coop.

SIR with his ladies. He's been a pretty good guy.

Edit: I just came in from feeding the animals and shutting them all in the barn for the night. It is very blustery this evening! The wind through the pine trees sounds like the roaring of the sea. I am so grateful the barn cats, horses and chickens have been blessed with a cozy shelter on a night like tonight. I am grateful we have been as well.

Not A Post About Art, But...

Yesterday the ladies met their prince! The timeline had to be moved up due to rapidly diminishing space in the holding pen where the girls were living (they are growing very quickly), so, in the pouring rain (naturally, me being me), I moved my little ladies, one by one, into the coop, taking time after each relocation to evaluate the new living/relationship dynamic. I wasn't sure how "S" would react to the wholesale invasion of his bachelor space by 24 females, but so far he has been a stellar roo. Initially he looked shocked, then confused, but he quickly shifted into protector mode. When a little Barred Rock timidly ventured into the run, he bustled out after her.

The ladies, for their part, made themselves quite at home. They moved in, redecorated a bit, took over "S's" favorite spot on the roost and even pecked at him a little. By evening everyone was in the run, playing and running about and "S" was busy overseeing his new charges.

So far, so good.