Don't Cry Over Spilt ... Eggs?

Today was our first three egg day! The white leghorns are reliably pumping out about an egg a day each. Not only did we get three eggs, but we got our first really big one. So far all of our eggs have been about 1.75 ounces, which classifies them as medium. Today, one of the eggs was a whopping 2.25 ounces, which would sell in a grocery store as an EXTRA LARGE!

My excitement was short lived, however. Liam, who means well and is very excited about this egg business, couldn't keep his hands off the eggs and dropped our very first extra large.

Though we couldn't put poor Humpty back together again, Hoagie the black lab was very excited for a mid-morning snack.


Now I gotta go mop because my kitchen smells like egg. Blech.

Roasting

Red Tailed Hawk

It has been a hot summer in the Northeast, and I feel bad for the chickens always being cooped up. Today, I decided to keep the black beast inside and let the chickens out. They are very happy foraging in a clump of trees overgrown with lots of bramble. It keeps them out of the sun (and safe from hawks) and gives them lots of opportunity to scratch up bugs and what not.

My dad stopped by to drop off a power washer and as has become his habit, he stops to see the birds before he checks in with the humans of the house. First thing he said to me, "You have two roosters." Now mind you, he is smacking his lips as he says this. While I have NO plans to eat any of my pet chickens, my father can only see a delicious roast chicken dinner every time he looks at those birds. Adding insult to injury: the roosters are significantly larger than the hens, making them seem even tastier. And he knows that we're really only interested in keeping hens as we worry that roosters may be too loud for our neighborhood. Our neighbors aren't that close, but we have a good relationship with them and would like to keep it that way!

The Chicken Whisperer recently blogged about keeping urban/suburban roosters responsibly, and honestly, it seemed like a lot of work. Essentially, you need to crate the rooster every night in your garage. This means that every night, you need to catch that guy and transport him somewhere else. Folks, most roosters aren't so nice, don't want to be caught, and certainly don't want to be held while you move them to their own version of solitary confinement. Oh and they have really sharp pointy toes that scratch like the dickens. We will see. Luckily, I have another month or two before the guys start crowing.

Freebird

If I leave here tomorrow, will you still remember me?
Well...will you?

I'm trying to free range the chickens as much as possible, but given that I have a big hungry black lab, I'm somewhat limited in these efforts. Yesterday afternoon, I let the chickens out because the kids wanted to play with them and I wanted them to eat bugs and scratch and do chicken stuff. We locked up the big black beast to ensure the birds' safety and all was pastoral bliss until it was time to get the chickens back in the coop. Usually, with a little persuading and gentle nudging, I can get the birds back in with minimal effort....but not last night.

That great juniper bush that the chickens like to scratch under? Well last night I spent a good 20 minutes running in circles around it trying to get the chickens out. I got about half the birds in and then two would run out as I tried to usher two more in. I finally had the sense to quit before I got any more frustrated, but then there was the issue of the barking black beast who really wanted to escape the garage and run free. The dog would just have to wait.

About 45 minutes later -- the kids had been fed and tubbed -- I put the beast on a leash and set out toward that @#*&%^@* juniper to get the chickens back in. This time I was armed with not only a big hairy beast, but also a kiddie fishing net that we use to catch minnows down the cape every summer. Sure the chickens ran away from the dog, but only to the other side of the tree. Even with the fishing net, once again I'm running in circles and getting no where (but hey! that's a typical day for a stay-at-home mom). After 25 minutes of more insanity, I admit defeat.

In a semi-irritated panic, I text my friend Catherine, the guru of all things fowl. She tells me to wait until it gets darker when the chickens slow down and actually want to go to bed. Oh, but she also mentions to make sure that I get to them before something else does... No worries. Never mind that I abut 92+ acres of wildlife land (wildlife meaning the many animals that like to eat fresh chicken). Sure enough, I go out just as the sun is setting and the last three chickens are desperately trying to find a way into the coop. With a little shuffling, I manage to get them back in. FINALLY! All are safe, and I can stop practicing my circle of life speech to explain to the kids what happened to the chickens.

Apparently, you can train the chickens to come running by shaking a bucket of chicken scratch. Alas, I don't have any chicken scratch, but you can bet your sweet bippy that I am going to get some immediately!

Needless to say, the chickens aren't leaving the coop today.

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you cannot change.
And this bird you cannot change.

OMG, TDD

The darned dog just tried to eat one of my white leghorns. It was awful, and my heart is still pumping like crazy. I think the bird is ok. It seems like my wrist got the worst of it. I just don't know what I am going to do with the beast. Ugh.

All Day Chicken Buffet?

I've failed to mention that we own a big black dog named Hoagie. Hoagie is a lab, from a long line of hunting dogs. To say that he is high energy and hyper is a massive understatement. To say that he is smart is a down right lie. We love Hoagie, but ...

Anyway, Hoagie has had limited exposure to the chicks. (Safety is job 1 at the Peterson house.) We've tried to keep him separated from the birds. On the rare occasion he has seen a chick up close -- I've been holding the chick -- he's quickly sat down licking his lips as if I'm about to give him a nice big doggie treat.

So now that the chicks are out in their coop, Hoagie thinks that we've put out an all day chicken buffet. He's acting crazed as if he's hyped up on steroids and he continuously jumps on the coop trying to knock down the chicken wire. He's desperate to find a way into the coop to get to the buffet. I'm hoping that with time, he will get bored and give up. I'll keep you posted.