The story of an urban chicken farmer.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

New Chicks

Here are pics of the new chicks.

Brahma and Cochin
Brahma and Cochin

Brahma and Cochin kiss
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Standard Partridge Cochin
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Polish Trio
Polish trio

Maran and two Houdans. The one in front is a rooster, or so we think. It is always trying to kick us when we put our hands into their brooder.
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Standard AND bantam partridge Cochins
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Buff and Whites (Cochins)
Buff cochin and two whites
See how tall they are after 4 days.

More Polish shots. A Buff, white-headed black, and golden
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Poopy Cochin butts
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The Polish are so funny (not the people, the chickens)
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A baker's dozen
All 13

Tragic End

I have been slacking. Lots has happened and here is the short version.
We had a chicken that lived in the garage because the others decided to eat on it's feet. The rooster, being a large cock of nearly 13 pounds, ruined the girls' back feathers when he mounted them. We gave the two of them to my wife's mom for mother's day. Mr. Fancy Pants became like a dog for them, following anyone who wandered from the house. Bridget's mom wanted to have little chicks, but the Brahma girl was still less than a year old, and not at all broody. 6 weeks passed, and something ate them. Wild dogs were the suspects as the corn is tall and one was killed in broad daylight. It was over a week before we heard the news, and it turns out the in-laws were so attached to the birds that they want us to raise new ones for them.
Of course we are happy to do it.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

A New Year (17 days late)

A new year already?
On January 1st the egg total for the day was six! Last month when the laying began, the chickens laid exactly six dozen (72) eggs. There are already more than that this month! BUT there are still only twelve in the fridge because we eat at least two a day and the cats get one. We have given a few away and cook with them often. It's amazing how different they are from the store bought ones.
Bridget noticed one thing right off the bat - the membrane between the shell and the albumen is extra tough. You have to really whack them on the bowl and then, if you aren't careful (sometimes even if you are), the tiny shell bits from the high impact fall into where we all don't want it. You bite down on your nice tender basted egg, after already savoring several previous tender bites, and deep in the crease of your back molar you feel the grating crunch of calcium. Eggshell soufflé, mmmm. So you have to pull them apart to keep the eggshell on the membrane. Also, they sort of 'POP' as you open them and rush out of the shell. All of this is because they are SO fresh they haven't formed any air pocket (ala boiled egg dimple) to notice, and the membrane hasn't dried out.
When we first were getting eggs we had some store bought "free range brown eggs" to use up. I did some cooking and needed four eggs so I mixed them for comparison. The difference in yolk color was like the difference between fresh squeezed orange juice and the cheapish of cheap frozen concentrate. Come to find out, the taste comparison fits that picture too. It is hardly fair to compare them because for the most part, your general store eggs are AT LEAST 2 weeks old and our eggs are not even a week old.
Other notable events -
I saw the rooster getting busy with one of the reds. Jumped up, wiggled for no more than 3 seconds and it was over. Typical.
On our second Christmas day (two families, yadda yadda), I popped out to look in on the chickens before we left and saw blood on the head of Matida (Brahma). On initial inspection it looked like several of them were bleeding from the head but further observation proved otherwise. Matilda was pecking Enid (other Brahma) in the foot and it was bleeding profusely. Being the top bird, she then pecked everyone else with her bloody beak and hence all the head blood. We separated Enid (into the garage) and after trying to put her back two days later with the same bad results set her up with some nice digs in the garage until she really heals and I can have more time to observe them when she goes back to the flock. She has laid an egg every day, so I assume she isn't too stress about it. She can still hear the others through the garage wall.
That's all, done.

About Me

I am a guitar pickin' fiddle playin' chicken man livin' with a hot bass thumpin' woman.