chook chooks

Well we have had some progress since our last post. Billie recovered completely and on March 1st laid her first egg, and then has given an egg every day since. And the day prior we had our first white one, which came from 'one of the polish' and we believe it could indeed be either of the polish' because we are pretty certain that our potential rooster is really a hen. She may be a bit on the butch side? The tail and neck feathers, the comb and wattles, all look distinctly different than the other polish, but instead of hearing the crowing we expected any day, we walked into the barn and she pounced into a crouch. Now I'll explain the crouch for those who don't live with chickens.

We have a dog in heat right now and we can't get over how just downright cranky she is. She is the sweetest girl in all the world but with this, her 3rd heat, she was quite the hormonal mess. She spent her days stomping around the house growling at her sister for looking at her the wrong way, looking glazed and distant and not at all affectionate with her people, and the remaining hours spent in compulsive efforts with our nuetered lab/basset Luka. But the chickens as they matured have become much less skittish, they love it when Birkleigh picks them up (we could hardly believe she was just scooping them up) and they love to be stroked. Yes, it's a very matey kind of thing. They crouch down, pump out their wings into an arch, and the tail either points down towards the ground or raises up. And they coo and coo while you stroke their backs. Birkleigh can tell you all about their vents. Her midwife mama is proud that she is so matter of fact about how bodies work. It's so much easier to lay the groundwork for all this stuff when you've got farm animals! The point is, given how much work I've done in the arena of human reproductive hormones, it's been interesting to see that there are distinct behavioral changes in a sexually mature chicken that make them quite sweet, and some in a Welsh spaniel that make them quite not. And from all these signs we now know we have 4 girls and no rooster. And we are getting 2-4 eggs a day. Finally we can accumulate enough to bake something!

Speaking of chicken behavior- I spent my day today intermittently searching high and low for what I thought for sure was going to be signs of our first loss to a fox. We had a very windy stormy night last night and with the changing weather and perhaps the shifting of our old barn, our doors don't latch- but rather get lodged into the wooden frames to have them close. It's not perfect but seemed secure enough and I even made extra certain last night that they were tight. But this morning, the door was wide open and every time this has happened (a handful of times that through forgetfulness or weather or small people who made one last trip to the barn) we make the journey to the barn with held breath and make the head count with relief. But today, there were only 3. I looked everywhere and the only reassuring sign was the absence of feathers scattered in the telltale pattern that indicates struggle. I covered our land and our neighbors' first thing with no luck and then got my workday started. Several times more I checked everywhere- clucking as I went. For these long walks I got to practice my clucking pretty well. I was carrying my phone with me to officially be 'at my desk' for as long as my cordless phone would reach. I would stop clucking for calls, of course. :)

When I picked up Birkleigh I told her the news that Sam was gone, and likely taken by a predator. We both cried a bit and she was cheered slightly by the fact that I didn't check for eggs (she loves this ritual more than anything! and everytime is so proud and excited to share exactly who laid today and where.) When we got home, she gathered her eggs, I looked some more, and then we let Frances out as the day had warmed some and she loves being out. My concern about the missing Sam was more than just being down a chicken but also that if a fox knows we've got chicken, our whole 'free ranging' will be too risky to continue. I really just want the chickens to wander about- and we aren't agreed upon making a mobile pen. Red had one before and said that they are too heavy and cumbersome and a lot of work and expense to make. I, of course, want to find out for myself ;). So we let out Frances with my fairly constant watching from our kitchen window and after about a half hour Birkleigh wanted to check on them again. And in the barn there were now 4 chickens. Sam was back, none the worse for wear. I still have no idea where she blew off too (the winds were really crazy) but I'm glad she's back and the foxes still aren't on to us.

We are all ready to get our seeds started, and hope the muddy mess that refroze with this frigid night and day will eventually dry enough to work. I want to get our soil test and we've got so many things to do they are all swirling in an endless farm 'to do' list. (ok- about 15 lists to be exact- I'm feeling a bit scattered). Fencing for the asparagus and strawberry patch loom as a big project and we will build an enclosure for the chickens. But we have all our seeds ordered and most are here but we still need to get our asparagus and onion sets (and where is that potato order?) And I think I finally have our garden plotted out and I've marked up our calendar with what gets started when and planted when. I realized we have perfect salvaged window frames to make a cold frame but we still need some more straw bales. We've got lots of exciting things (and work) ahead. But we are having our first spring on the farm. Last year when we were dreaming about this and looking at frozen farms, Red told me that she would never smell spring mud the same way after farming. That the smell of it brings such longing. I think she's right. It's my first year of really really smelling that mud. It's good stuff.