WHERE'S MARKY ?

He's not a chicken, but I love him just the same.

Marky.  

Hunting-dude.  

Master-o' Camouflage.

So get out your binoculars and your magnifying glass,  and...

find Marky!

:)

Build a Coop in THREE HOURS?

Heck, why not?  

Terry Golson and I thought we'd give it a shot.

She recently ordered a batch of fresh new chicks, and is hoping their delivery will coincide with one of her hens going broody.  

She needed a little coop to house the chicks and their new mom. 

We only had three free hours to get the job done.   

I was up for the challenge. 

Marky and I tumbled into Terry's back yard with our big bag of power tools, and everyone got down to business.

Lily ran circles around Marky, Terry brewed a big pot o' joe, and I sketched a coop plan on paper, based on the materials Terry had to work with.

Ingredients:

2 steaming cups coffee,

1 busted old go-cart,

1 slightly rusty bunny cage,

2 cups assorted drywall screws.

_____________________________

With saber saw on medium speed, 

chop go-cart into manageable pieces

and random chunks.

Using any means imaginable,  

affix go-cart pieces to rabbit cage, 

and sprinkle generously with drywall screws.

Stand back and sip coffee liberally.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

  

Terry and I performed our coop-creating feat before a large audience:

Lily, Scooter and Marky feigned interest until they each nodded off and tipped over on the warm sunny lawn.

Candy and her flock lined up to observe.. but what really captivated them was the grass seed that Terry had sown on the opposite side of their fence, just out of reach.

The goats, Pip and Caper, were mesmerized by the entire performance. Man, those boys are easily thrilled.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

The result of our labors:

a little broody coop in 3 hours!

....and with a bit of paint, 

anything

is

possible.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 

But wait-- there's more!

Click here to go to the blog at HENCAM.COM ,

where TERRY is telling this very same story,

in HER own special style.
(and see her critters, in real-time)

Enjoy!

EVENING RITUAL

As the sun dips low in the evening sky I step into my muck-boots and take some treats out to the girls.
I swear this is what happens every single night:
  
Daisy is the first to catch sight of me and sprints over to Lucy's side. She's a clever girl, Daisy. 

She knows I hand-feed Lucy on account of Lucy's being

virtually unable to walk anymore --- and Daisy wants what Lucy's gettin'.

Lucy gets her treat despite pesky little Daisy.

Then Pigeon curses and swears at me until I fill a little cup with feed and place it in front of her.

Inside her own private cup, she settles down to pecking and nibbling and talking to herself.


Then Lucy totters toward me and bumps into my boot.  That's her way of saying, "Pick me up."

So I do.   


She is capable of climbing the ramp into the henhouse, but why should she go to the trouble when there's a red sleeve that will take her up there?
  
....I always get a little thrill when Lucy perches trustfully on my arm.


Sometimes I fancy myself a Falconer--- the fearsome Barred-Rock clenching my gauntlet with mighty talons of death.... 

...so then I deposit Lucy at the top of the ramp, and she perches in the doorway for a bit.

Lucy fills the entire doorway with her tremendous girth, and she sits there until she's good and ready to move on.

A traffic jam forms.  The girls desperately try to squeeze past her this way and that way, but Lucy's titanic magnitude is impassable.  
Eventually Lucy moves on in, followed by Pigeon, Lil'White and Daisy, in exactly that order.


Fern is the last one in.  She dillydallies outside, oblivious.

She's busy eating dirt.
Yes, dirt.
No, I have no idea why.
When Fern eventually discovers that she's alone, she turns and scurries right up the ramp -


-- but she stops abruptly near the top....


for this little chicken knows


that somewhere inside....

lurks Lil'White.


With empty eyes and a cold dark soul, Lil'White makes it her business to torment Fern  in this way every night.  
She's good at it.  
Patiently she waits in the darkness.


Fern fidgets.
She panics a little.
She paces.


I leave Fern out there, terrified and terrorized, and trudge back to my house.
...but that's not the end of our evening ritual.
.  .  .  .  .  .  
A few hours later, teeth brushed and ready for bed, I go to the coop one more time in my muck-boots and pajamas.   
"Ferr-rn," I call gently.
"Br-br-br?," comes a lonely whisper from the shadows.

Too frightened to go inside, Fern has chosen to launch herself into the rafters above. There she waits to be rescued from terrible dark aloneness.
Fern grips my fingers with her little blue-black toes, and ducks her head as she rides my hand through the doorway and gets deposited on a roost inside.  
There's no attack from Lil'White this time because in the dark of night Lil'White can't see her victim.  
I withdraw my hand and listen to a little fluttering and shuffling in there, and then... the best part...  


I peek in at my little flock.

KIDS AND CHICKENS

Every kid...so totally unique.

Abby, here, passionately embraces Nature.
From the tiniest, creepiest --

-- to the hugest enormousest.


In my back yard, Abby has her own personal mission:

to rearrange the chickens.

Pigeon goes here...

Not sure where Lil'White should go...

Because she's speedy and deliberate, Abby's the only one of us who's able to catch fleet-footed Daisy.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  

George, however, is so patient that Daisy steps right onto his hand.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  


At my friend Trish's house, while she and I chatted on the lawn, 

her son Chris perched a rooster on his head and ran loops around the yard. 


Chris is a teenager now, and will be horrified to read this, but...  sorry, Chris -- that joyous image is forever etched in my memory.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 


Lil'White has been Sarah's favorite from the beginning.

Sarah tenderly scoops her up,

and gazes lovingly into those vapid little eyes.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .    


Amanda came to visit, expressly to meet the chickens.
Pigeon seemed very curious, and followed Amanda all around.

So Amanda stopped and offered Pigeon some grass.  The two of them had a long, long conversation....

I wonder if it was Amanda's polka-dotty swimsuit that intrigued Pigeon so... 

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 

I've been doing some chicken-talks lately, and have come to look forward to chatting with the older folks at these events.   They're so happy to tell me of their favorite childhood chickens.  One woman told me she dressed hers up in a bonnet and wheeled it around in a baby carriage.   
Another lady innocently explained how she and her siblings made pull-toys out of their beloved hens:  
you just tie a string around a bit of bread, and then feed it....

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .