Happy Harvest Blog
Well, I'm back
Back on track. I survived my alarming and exhausting 5 days of wretchedness. It started out a big rain day. Only Cleopatra is out there wading for worms. The barred rocks say Nah, too wet for us. The first broody hen of the year has her own box, finally. She's been determinedly trying to warm eggs in the prime nest box of the big coop for a week, but I haven't been able to manage to get her own box. That means that the big hens have been laying eggs right on top of her some of the time.
Guinea sleepover II
HW did some out loud wondering whether we´d have another visitation. If this little bird maybe had a sprain; was having a hard time and the falling in the tank was a symptom, not cause.In the evening, he closed the coops again and returned without remark. He climbed to the loft, where I was, and halted meaningfully at the top of the ladder.No way!
From farm to spa
Two hens went for a long drive in a box (they made hardly a peep), and got a major lifestyle upgrade. I got a text late in the day reporting that the hens had loved every minute of a shampoo and
A chicken worthy of a name?
We've got a true independent spirit emerging. Seven, as in, there's the chickens on the woodpile. Are they all there? 1,2,3,4...5...6, where's Seven?
Chickens running
Sometimes when I’m walking down the path, I hear a little whisk whisk behind me, and I look back to find two or three hens eagerly running along behind me. They stop immediately when I stop and mill around, at a loss. Uh, we were just, uhhhh, nothing.
First contact
I heard the Silkies burst out cry-screaming, and I ran out to see, just in time to see a red (full-size) hen sprinting towards me on the path from the coop, head up, eyes wide. Behind her Snowball the Silkie rooster was thundering along like a stormcloud, head down, wings out, and eyes narrowed. I didn’t have time to turn my camera on before it was over.
Pet chicken
We have one pet chicken.The low hen hangs out by the camper all the time now. She’s different, very content to be all by herself out here the other side of the field from the flock. I would too, if being around the rest meant I got feathers pulled out of my head.
Instagram.
I may not make a blog post every day, but at least I Insta.
Bite size.
