A week after getting our first three, I went to the feed store and picked up a fourth chick, an Ameracauna (the kind that lay blue-green eggs). Her name is Mandy (yes, another character on Ugly Betty).  I was a little worried that integrating her into the existing group would be a problem so I had set up a little fenced area for her to hang out in. It turns out that like human babies, chicks don’t have the pecking-order issues that adults do.

Betty, Hilda and Willy looked at her curiously for a few minutes and went back to their business. If anything, our new Mandy is the terrorist of the group, waiting until everyone is asleep before she decides they’ve made the mistake of being between her and the water or the best way to get to her napping spot is over them. Mostly they’re getting along wonderfully.

It’s been amazing to watch the girls grow almost hourly. Just a week older, they’re twice the size of the little one and their feathers are coming in quickly. Those fuzzy butts are now showing the idea of tail feathers and the first set of wing feathers are more impressive. They’re very calm about being in my hand so fear no chick abuse while taking these shots:

This is just a lovely group of chicks to have around. From left to right: Betty, Hilda, Willy and Mandy.

For those of you waiting for me to finish up our round-the-world-trip posts, please be patient. Every time I sit down at the computer, I get distracted by our girls who are living right next to my desk. More often than not, I wind up just watching them instead.

Ah, chicken butt. Beaks and fuzzy butts are the two things that look pretty much the same from chickhood on up.

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Well everyone made it through their first night. The temperature in the terrarium stayed a constant 95 degrees. Betty is pecking at everything to see if it’s worth eating, including the new feathers on her sisters. She also seems to be very good at finding bits of feed that’s wandered into Hilda and Willy’s fluff.  Poor Hilda just wanted to take a nap this morning, but other two apparently have a different schedule.

I think you can see a change from yesterday. The new “real” feathers are more visible on their wings and the girls are  certainly gaining weight.

	Willy

	Betty

	Hilda

After our long trip it was comforting to see everything was pretty much the same. The roses are coming into bloom, there are plenty of oranges on the trees, and the sourdough starter is still alive. And yet it feels a little off …there aren’t more animals around. Milton, the dear, is a pretty quiet dog and doesn’t take up as much space as Zack used to. Then there were the chickens whose presence took up a surprising amount of room. I’ve particularly missed watching them doing their morning inspection of the back yard during my morning coffee. Well that changed yesterday with a trip to the feed store in the rain to inspect the horse troughs full of peeping chicks.

Here are our new girls:

Willy is a Golden-Lace Wyandotte, and in about six months, she’ll be laying medium-brown eggs. I chose her because of the glamorous look of the mature bird. (Willy is short for Wilhemina.)

Those of a certain age might recall Foghorn J. Leghorn, ruler of the Looney Tunes barnyard. Hilda here is a distant cousin being a Barred Leghorn. Since everybody seems to be focusing on brown eggs, it seemed like a fun idea to get white ones. I’m a little apprehensive as Leghorns don’t have the best reputation as backyard pets. Hopefully our hand-raising will make her less flighty.

Leghorn chickens, by the way. are named for the city of Leghorn, better known to us as Livorno. And instead of saying “leg horn”, we’re really supposed to say “leggern”.

And finally we have Betty, a Maran (French in origin). She is probably of the Cuckoo variety, developing the black and white barring like Hilda when she feathers out.  The color of her eggshells will be a very rich brown.

They’re all two or three days old. They took to the warm terrarium where they’ll stay for about month very well, quickly figuring out where the food and water are. Betty seems a little delicate, hopefully just from the long trip. It’s alarming, then hilarious to watch them dashing about only to suddenly drop to the floor to take a nap.

Our feed store has posted a schedule of chick arrivals online so I’ve been able to pore over descriptions and choose the ones for us. It would be nice to get an Ameracauna to complete the egg-color spectrum when next week’s shipment comes in. Her name will be Mandy (as in Amanda).

If it’s not obvious yet, they’re all named after the women on Ugly Betty.

[Concord Feed & Fuel’s chick arrival dates]

I was checking for eggs today, when, to my surprise, all three girls were jammed into the nest box. (The operating manual says one nest box will serve 5 hens, three at once was a surprise.)

So much chicken news this week…

I noticed earlier this week that Lily was eyeing me as her rooster. What does that mean, you ask? (Or maybe you really don’t want to know.) All of our chickens will occasionally crouch and spread their wings when they see me coming. I thought for the longest time that they thought I was some predator swooping in. No, instead it turns out they just wanted a little chicken love. I give their rumps a little shake and, satisfied, they ruffle their feathers and go on their way.  That’s just what Lily, who’s about 8 months old, has started doing.

So today was the day when she settled into the nest and produced her first egg. Since she’s an Ameraucana chicken, her eggs are lovely greenish shade. Sometimes the egg will cause great consternation, lengthy lays and yelling afterwards. Not ladylike Lily…she was in the nest, stayed a short time, and went downstairs to have lunch.

Here’s a slideshow of a few pictures.

By the way, the two chickens that had been in trouble this week are doing much better. One is headed to complete recovery (Rowena), the other, Jeanelle, we’re still crossing our fingers on.

It’s been a challenging time here animal-wise, what with our dog Zack having cancer, one of the chickens sick from something, and now last night, a late-night attack in the henhouse. I did my usual morning check of the nest area and noticed that there was a major fracas since there were a lot feathers everywhere and some of the stuff I keep in there was knocked all over the place. It didn’t concern me all that much because that will happen when the girls flap around, jostling for positions on the roost.

But then, we found this by the door of the henhouse:

(As always, click on a picture to see it larger.  Click again to dismiss it.)

Luckily the chicken to whom those feathers belong, Rowena – a Cuckoo Maran that lays dark brown eggs, was up and about.

I took her inside and cleaned up the bloody parts, dressed them with ointment and gave her some antibiotics. Of the three places she was hit, one is particularly bad. I have to admit it made me kinda of queasy when I realized the skin had been broken and I smelled, of all things, fresh chicken meat! (I should add our chickens are not for meat, just eggs and amusement.) It’s pretty bad looking:

Even though the chicken run and the henhouse are pretty well fenced, it’s obvious they weren’t enough last night. The girls are going to have to be completely locked in their house for a while.

We’re thinking that a raccoon or possum came in around 2am (because that’s when I heard Zack bark and our neighbor heard commotion). Rowena was sleeping by the ramp and got grabbed by the predator and dragged downstairs. That’s why there weren’t feathers from  Lily or Rubella, the other birds. Rowena is one tough chicken and she managed to escape. And thank goodness the ill one, Jeanelle who is weak from what ails her, was in our house for the night.

As long as that nasty wound heals and doesn’t become infected, we think she should be alright.

You just never know, do you….

As a backyard poultry fellow, I know that chicken health is not affected by cold weather until it really gets and stays well below freezing. Where we live, we’ll get several nights of temperatures in the mid- to upper-20s which is nothing to worry about. Nevertheless, I can’t help but think about keeping them a little warmer if possible so I whipped up this easy heater that I read about in Backyard Poultry magazine. (There’s a slight benefit in mitigating the fact that egg production plummets with freezing weather.)

What you need:

• a flower pot
• a pot saucer large enough to the top of the flower pot
• another saucer that will just fit over the bottom snugly
• an old lightbulb base
• a low-wattage bulb, 15-25w. (compact fluorescents won’t generate enough heat)
• optionally some gravel to help with light leakage
• an electric timer

Some pictures follow (click to see ‘em larger):

I set the timer to go on at sunset and off at sunrise. It seems to keep the henhouse 5 degrees warmer. Coupled with the natural insulation of the henhouse, the temperature is about 10 degrees above what it is outside when the weather is freezing. Not bad.

The guys over at Gizmodo say this is a demonstration of the principle that lets cameras stabilize images and keeps missile guidance systems going. Hmm. . .

I think I’ll just see about this for myself…

via Gizmodo

When they’re not lovin’, some rabbits are fightin’. Apparently these two went pugilistic and who better to break up the disturbance than two chickens? Go figure.

via Towleroad

Sad news from the suburban homestead today: Donnelle, one of my very first chickens passed away during the night. A Black Australorp, I had gotten her as a day-old chick three years ago.

Perhaps because she was hand-raised, Donnelle had a real, identifiable personality. She was sweet, very calm. She was always the first to come running to say hello when I returned home. In the yard, when the girls were out roaming, she would follow me around, like a faithful puppy.

She grew to be a noble bird. Sleek black, with feathers that were iridescent with green, she was a graceful adornment to our garden. Of course, the original reason we started keeping chickens was to have fresh eggs and she was no slouch on that front, either, giving us lovely medium-sized brown ones.

I’m guessing it was simply old age that did her in: she had pretty much stopped laying a month or two ago. Like our dog, Dennis, I think she held on until we were home again after a long trip. She did seem relieved to see us again when we came back this week.

I suppose it’s just a little ridiculous to mourn a chicken. Well, then, I guess that makes me a little ridiculous. I’ll miss you, Donnelle.