Mary and Martha, the first chicks to spend time living in a crate inside our home, are officially 'hens.' One started laying pretty little dark brown eggs about 10 days ago and her sister started late this week. Martha (?) is laying nearly an egg a day already. (I can tell the eggs apart by size right now.)
Cute little pullet eggs.
Unlike the Cochins and Dominiques, these Partridge Plymouth Rocks seem to be laying bigger eggs each day. It took the older girls months to get their eggs up to size! Perhaps they will be laying full sized eggs before winter sets in? The white eggs are from our Dominique girls.
Two or more of the Cochins are now laying eggs with extremely thin shells. Guess it's time to buy another 50# bag of crushed oyster shell.
Well, would you look at that! I wrote this post about the raccoon who invaded the coop and forgot to post it when I couldn't find the cable to add photos. Seven weeks late... but here's your update! Original composition dated July 6th.
Yes, yes they are! Look at this pretty girl. You'd hardly believe that she broke into the coop and stole nearly a dozen eggs and hauled off a whole bunch of chickens. See that.... ? She's pulling the towel into the cage so she can curl up with a nice soft blankie.
Mr. Ruger missed her a couple times so Madame Trappe suggested she try her wiles as Ruger and Co. rested a bit. Arriving on her well-established 3-hour cycle, Miss. Raccoon went right in to the trap for her eggs and rotting peach. CLANK! Safely disarmed by her own hand (or was it a foot?) Miss. Raccoon spent the rest of the night and the next morning in her little wire box.
The Roosters were NOT happy to see a raccoon, even a caged one, outside the coop in the morning. Indeed, they refused to allow the hens or lower ranking roosters out the pop hole until Miss. raccoon was removed from the vicinity.
Once outside the control of dour old roosters, some of the Red Star pullets showed no apparent fear in getting quite close to the curious mammal who had so terrorized them.
Not wishing to be unsporting (or risk damaging the trap) Mr. Fuzzy took Miss. raccoon on a long drive to an area of the county which is especially sparse in habitations. Miss. Raccoon now lives a few miles from any house or corn field in a lovely spot which sports not just a stream but a goodly pond too!
I see by the sudden amorous attraction the roosters have for the pullets that this spring's chicks will soon begin laying. (Huzzah!) This means that we will soon have eggs for sale and I will have to settle upon a price.
Tuesday saw me waiting with other local farmers for our monthly shipments via Dan's Countryside Delivery out of Waynesboro, VA. Dan brings us certified organic feed and supplements from Countryside Organics for our poultry, horses, cows, and goats. We got to talking about what us newbies are doing and, in particular, the prohibitive cost of producing organic poultry.
One farmer of 30+ years has 300 chickens and stated that he could not feed organic because the retail price of a dozen eggs would amount to $6.00 ...or 50 cents an egg.
This is not an excessive price when one considers that feed is nearly double the non-organic price, that pastured poultry have higher labor costs, and that processing is not automated like it is in large commercial operations. Furthermore, stocking rates (the number of birds per unit of area) are much lower, typically about 300 chickens per acre (43,560 square feet) vs the same number in about 960 square feet for cage-free organic and 70 square feet in the "standard" houses that give us dollar-a-dozen (or less) eggs.
But let us be honest.... six bucks a dozen is steep for most pockets even if it is a fair price for the producer. Let us also consider that my chickens were initially brought to the farm for non-egg purposes, that is, as tick control.
Now, we have 10 cats who need tick control every 3 weeks. None of the OTC products are effective in this area so we use a prescription variety which costs about $14 a dose on sale. If the five cats who stick close to the house are able to be treated every 4 weeks (because the larger number of hens control a larger area) that is a savings of $280 a year. That's $23.33 a month, nearly as much as one bag of feed.
I use flaked pine shavings for bedding. This costs about $5 for six cubic feet. I use the old litter, after some months of further composting, on the garden to loosen the soil and feed the plants. Composted Forest Mulch (aka mill waste) cost me nearly $4 for two cubic feet in Santa Fe. So, I save $7 per bale versus buying a less useful bagged product. A smallish bag of high-karma organic fertilizer is surely worth something but I get the nitrogen from droppings, feathers, and spilled feed.... that's surely worth about another bag of feed a month ... maybe more.
Sooo.... let us see.... I've gotten feed costs to a theoretical $54 per month value with my tick and garden offsets. Purina's standard laying ration costs about $15 a bag which equals about $60 a month. Neat-o, eh?
My housing costs are low and I have little associated labor because the coop is a permanent fixture. It never gets moved. I figure it costs about $10 a month over it's expected lifetime. Winter lighting with a re-purposed LED strip light on a timer costs me fifteen cents a winter. (Last winter I babied the chickens with a heat lamp but No More! THAT was super expensive.) I'm guessing my labor is about 15 hours in a four-week "month." Poverty in America says that a living wage for one person in my area is $7.41 / hr equalling $111. (That's nearly the typical farm intern's monthly stipend, folks!) New cartons cost upwards of 38 cents each, including shipping.
.....Actual -v-Offset Costs
Feed $106.28 -v- $53.14
Housing $10
Labor $111
Cartons $7.60
Chick costs / 24 months of good laying $12.50
Raising /24 months of good laying $9.37 / $7.15
----------------
$256.75 -v- $201.39
The pullets are expected to lay about 80 dozen saleable eggs a month, allowing for losses. This works out to the following costs per dozen, not including business costs (market fees, transportation, storage...)
FARM FRESH ORGANIC EGGS!
$3.21 -v- $2.52 per dozen out of the hen.
If I sell them from home at $4.50 a dozen I should make a small real profit without undercutting other farmers and with enough margin to allow a few of my poorer neighbors to buy eggs at a reduced price.
Fancy decorated Easter eggs and, perhaps, cute chicks in the spring will definitely have to supplement this egg gig.
I check on the chickens about mid-day most days. Today's check, as all others, included an inspection of the eggs under my broody girls. Little Squeaky is sitting on six banty eggs. I presume they are all hers as there is no variation. She might be a mama about June 17th although the quality of her shells is not great. She's the first of our Cochins to go broody and could use the time away from the roosters to regrow her feathers. The big girls seem utterly disinclined but that's OK as they earn their keep with great big eggs.
Miss Bett has been on her clutch for about a month. The girls seem to like to spend a week or two collecting eggs in their nest before getting down to the business of incubation. The magic number of eggs around Stratheden seems to be five, real or fake, acquired over several days. (They'd like more.) As you can see from the picture, today was hatch day! All came from large eggs.
Two chicks seem to have bantam Cochin daddys. That cute yellow chick is a biggie but my red roosters are both bantams, so it's counted as a bantam x. Another is all black and comparatively small. Four of the chicks have feathered legs which confirms Cochin parentage. We'll have to wait until these babies grow proper feathers (about four weeks) to know if any of the chicks are "frizzled." Three chicks have the classic markings of a Dominique chick. All their head spots seem fairly compact, suggesting they are females.
When Bett went broody again I decided to test an old wive's tale about sexing by egg shape. I took away any egg that was especially round or (more often) long as the books say neither produces "good chickens." (Whatever that may mean.) I then removed any particularly pointy egg on the theory that well pointed eggs are more often roosters. This left just the lovely, slightly rounded, "female" eggs.
In another day or so I should be able to "wing feather sex" them to determine how many girls and boys we have.
For those dear readers who are Facebook friends with Mrs. Fuzzy this will not be new news but now it comes with photos. I will warn you, some of them are not pleasant but you get to end with happy photos.
The big order of chicks from Murray McMurray hatchery was shipped on Sunday and arrived on Wednesday, a day later than their absolute maximum transit time. Now, a chick lives its first 3 days on the nutrition is has from absorbed yolk before hatching and the short time between when the PO calls and introducing a chick to sustenance doesn't seem to make a lick of difference but these chicks were five days old when they arrived. Needless to say, I didn't see much reason to rush and collect a silent box of dead animals so I stopped at the coffee shop first. I wanted to pretend that my new coop would soon be filled with dozens of cute chicks:
Amazingly, there were cheeping sounds coming from the box... but not many and not exactly "lusty throated." I put it in the back of the car so I wouldn't be tempted to look before getting into the coop, just in case doing so would cause a chill to the survivors. When I opened the box it was a horror scene:
Yes, that is what 40 dead chicks looks like. Five were still standing and ten more semed viable so I took them out, introduced them to the water fount, and covered the bottom of their tiny brooder box with feed so they wouldn't have to hunt for food. I spent about one and a half hours repeatedly dipping their beaks in the water and food until they seemed to understand what they needed to do.
As I checked in throughout the day ( I had feed to pick up and a flooring installer to meet) more and more chicks died... but clearly not the ones who had been standing when I opened the box. You might imagine our sadness and revulsion each time another few animals went into the compost bin.
That's what you do with them. The USDA actually requires that if they aren't trucked away. At least they will be creating new life in some small way, eh?
My usual word for a day like this is "suckfest." It's a good, clean, word that usually makes things better just by its' utterance but it proved utterly inadequate... so I got angry and called the toll free number for the US Postal Service. The flippant tone that greeted my explanation ("I just received a box of chicks and 80% are dead because the box did not arrive on time.") really ticked me off. He wisely pawned me off on the complaint department who mow mowed me and gave me a case number.
The hatchery folks were much more helpful. They knew why there had been a delay and told me. (The sorting center in TN is now a crime scene.) They also commiserated on my loss and explained it was happening all over the region because of the snafu. On Friday I'll call with a final count and they'll schedule a shipment of replacements to be sent once the USPS has its act together.
What was lovely about the call was when I explained who lived and who died. The lady said, "You mean some arrived alive and seem like they're going to make it???? That doesn't normally happen when they're this late!" She was really excited and happy.
So, now it is after 10:30 in the evening and I have this truly miraculous photo to share with you of our Ressurection Chicks. There are five survivors now and all are avidly eating and drinking, moving about their brooder box, and chirping away. We know they aren't out of the woods yet because their little bodies will need time to recover from the trauma but for now they are doing all the tings a chick is supposed to be doing.
I was even happy when one of them pooped on my hand while holding her. Now to come up with five female names of people who have come back from the dead. Any soap opera fans out there?
All the hens are consistently laying and, since the departure of Number Three, we've had no observable issues with the roosters. (Except not having enough hens for them.) Everyone seems quite content in their little coop. I started keeping daily production records at the turn of the year and am happy to report that they are gifting us with four dozen eggs a week.
Salvadora gives us three "extra small" eggs a week. They are exquisitely proportioned with the color and texture of Parian ware. The remainder are small to large and anywhere from light beige to nearly chocolate brown depending on the chicken. In the photo above, you see our largest bantam hen and one of our big Cochin gals sharing a nest. Mind, there are three more empty nest boxes just two feet away. Guess they wanted to gossip.
How are we getting so many eggs out of eleven hens? Well, partly it's because hens normally lay well their first winter. They also get extra light and heat from the heat lamp I leave on overnight to keep their water from freezing. I thought this would cause a lot of stress but they seem to be fine with the situation. (They do get a night off now and then.) The chickens are also getting to forage for bugs and greens in the woods. They spend several hours a day out there turning over leaves. Being able to scratch definitely makes them happier.
There's no proper news to be reporting; I just thought I'd say "hello" and let you know we're still here. Us and the chickens, you know.
The Rooster Confinement Project is thus far not working and I have changed tactics. Horace remains, flightless, in his pen with two tiny hens and Guido to keep him company. Having gotten past their desire to run with the big birds, they all seem content to not be pecked and bullied all the time. Interestingly, Horace does not appear the least bit interested in the others.
The girls are giving us an average of six eggs a day. We're now bribing the neighbors with eggs and I suspect I can barter with them for a Spanish class I saw advertised today. The poster did say they'd barter for useful things.
Sunday evening we had a fright due to doggie illness. Mr Rufus left some, erm, highly scented gifts, on the carpet and we thought I'd have to take him to the emergency vet because he wasn't his usual in-your-face needy self. It turns out he just had a tummy ache (from God knows what in the forest) and was milking us for extended sympathy. When he saw me pull the car around he made a sudden, and thorough, recovery.
Stinker.
Mr. Fuzzy is now convinced that Rufus may, in fact, be smarter than an Akita. You read that right, Teddy & SuSu. Chetworth will attest to hearing the words from Mr. Fuzzy's own lips: Rufus may be smarter than Haiku.
Unbelievable!
02 January 2011
The Rooster Confinement Project is thus far failing. I've not gotten them moved into the walled garden yet so they are simply flying over their little fence to be with the girls.
Except Horace, of course. He can't fly.
This flight is taking place despite clipping their wings. Both wings. It seems I need to get that fence erected in the garden.
Thanks to our friend Bob the hennies have new nesting boxes! The girls have, until now, made do with two straw filled crates on the floor which work well enough. Everybody can access them and they are easy to clean. Occasionally a chicken will decide to sleep there overnight or Rufus will go in and steal an egg. Now they have a super-deluxe three hole sky nursery with a lovely roost bar for them to walk along when selecting their room of choice. As my littlest hens cannot fly I will have to build them a little ramp. Frizzles are beautiful creatures but I don't think I will acquire more for this reason.
As today is scheduled to be a mild but rainy one I had best get going before the weather turns. Thankfully, I thought to get a few bales of straw last week for the chicken yard so that area won't actually become Mud Hole City. The straw also restores the lost leaf cover our trees are accustomed to having. Happy chickens. Happy trees. Happy humans.
Dear reader, let me begin by wishing you a joyful end to the year two thousand ten. It's been a doozie for so many people we know that we are not the least bit sad to bid it adieu. Let us all have a pleasant, healthful, and successful two thousand eleven!
Chetworth has also asked me to extend his thanks to the person or persons who sent him the beautiful wreath for Christmas. Fourteen brains between us and this household still can't figure out who the anonymous sender was. The wreath has been very pretty hanging at the entrance to the drive.
This new year's eve marks the start of a new era for our hennies and roos. You see, the girls told me the other day that they "had had ENOUGH with those greedy, sex-crazed, roosters" and that it was my job to "do something about it" or there would be no peace in the barnyard for me.
No, the roos didn't get the axe even though that is the logical thing to have done. Fortunately for them I promised someone special that I wouldn't do them in since they are rather nice roosters, as roosters go. Anyone want a rooster?
What I did do was create a little bachelor pen for six of the little men. They now have their own coop, roosts, sand bath, and covered area next to the big coop. I managed to put most of the boys in there just about sunset but they flew the fence just to prove a point. Little did they know or remember that there are fixes for that....
About eight o'clock I went out with a wee flashlight and collected them one at a time, climbed over the fence, and clipped their glorious barred wings with my scissors of dismay. Mr. Horace, our red banty frizzled Cochin, did not receive such treatment as he knows he can't fly anyway. Horace was, most sensibly, already cozy in the rooster coop. The girls will be happy.
The hennies do still have two roosters living with them as it was always my intention to only allow those who weren't too aggressive with the girls to live with them once I got it sussed out. Red is a smooth red bantam Cochin who seems pretty laid back. Guido is my pet chicken.... small, hen-pecked, and thoroughly sorry looking... so he gets to stay in the big coop out of pity if nothing else. Everyone seems to treat him like a girl anyway.
The bachelors will live in their little yard for a time while I erect a bit of temporary fencing in the walled garden. If they're going to stay then they can earn their keep by scratching the soil bare of weeds back there.
26 October 2010
Dear Anon.
One third to one half cup of oats. You aren't baking so it's not the least bit exact.
Life on the farm is slowing down nicely. We've been all over God's Green Earth of late so it's a true pleasure to be able to sleep until the roosters crow (7:30 AM) and watch the mist roll into our little holler. The banties and Sal are gifting us two or three little eggs a day. I can't tell if the big girls are laying yet. I might have to trim their wings and confine them to the run to force their bluff. Someone told me to confine them until late morning then let them out so they'll run to their nests. ... But I notice the banties prefer to lay in the late afternoon so that might not work. So much for what the experts say!
The hens came "into lay" about 2 weeks ago and we're getting about three a day right now. They're cute little pullet eggs, X Small, but the yolks are bright orange like proper eggs ought to be. Yesterday, I stalked Salvadora, our mini hen, until she laid her egg in the coop and was surprised to discover that hers are the same size as the standard hens'! Sal's eggs are the very palest buff color while the rest are light brown so when someone goes broody I'll be able to select for more Seabrights! They're really neat birds.
This morning I was given a free chicken as my friend Jon had one too many roosters. Why I needed another I do not know. Apparently New Roo had the same idea. When I let him out of his crate in the coop I'd failed to close the pop hole when I closed the door and he flew out.... Through the hole, over two fences, and squawking his little lungs out into the pine woods behind the chicken pen.
Can you say "............... Mrs. Fuzzy!" Yeah, I can't print the words I thought at myself as I gathered up a dozen or so cups, a jug of water, and some flagging to put water out for the frightened little guy. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Anyway, I spent an hour or more putting out little cups of water all over that section, pouring water into every little hollow that would hold it as I found them, and keeping an eye out for the little bugger.
Hopefully he'll discover the big water bucket near the pen, and the food I put out, and stick around even if he doesn't decide to join the flock. All we can do now is pray that he returns.
NOT a good week for chickens! I feel so stupid. **UPDATE**
Mr. Cock-a-doodle Roo still has not come home as of Sunday mid-day but we hear him down by the creek crowing his freedom call. He sounds happy. Maybe he understands that he very narrowly escaped the soup pot? Late yesterday afternoon I went out to check on the chickadoos and did a little head count. Discovered that my missing hen, Rumpy, had returned. All their little wings are now clipped so there will be no more flights of fancy for this flock! Mr. Roo is due the same should he decide to join the flock. It's the price of access to the hens.
After nearly a month without his people-mama to remind him of his manners our Stevens' Mountain Cur has developed a few bad habits. Not horrible, nasty, habits but ones that need reversing nonetheless. He's also matured a little more. This seems to happen in spurts.
One place this has happened is with the chickens. After a day of watching him I decided that he didn't seem to consider them food... just potentially fun to chase. Last night he herded an escaped dominic into a corner and backed off so I could put the frightened bird back over the fence. I then herded everyone into the coop and closed them up for the night.....
Not realizing that my favorite chicken, Salvadore, wasn't inside. He often hangs out under the bigger chickens so when I saw a little eye and beak poking out I presumed it was him. This morning I opened the door and realized he was missing. Oh the agony! Later, I thought I heard his peculiar call so I had a tiny hope he would reappear. A very tiny hope!
Then about 5:30 this afternoon I heard one heck of a kerfuffle at the coop and went running to see what was the matter. It was Rufus, orange bird in mouth, running around the corner of the workshop. Boy was I angry! The moment he heard me yell the poor creature was dropped but he was determined it would NOT leave the spot. Lying on the ground, in a state of great panic, was little Salvadore! His wing feathers were a little mussed up but- despite his wild ride in Rufus' mouth -there wasn't a scratch on him!
Sal is back amongst his brethren, enjoying the feeder bucket, and undoubtedly telling stories of "camping out" for a night. I have my favorite little rooster back.
Mr. Fuzzy and I got home from our respective trips within a couple hours of each other, ate a lovely pizza from our local Italian restaurant, Mickey G's, and promptly collapsed. The next evening our friends from Vermont arrived for a five day visit while Brian taught a weekend blacksmithing class at the Jacksonville Center. .... A class which both the Fuzzy's had signed up for and one had completely forgotten said factoid. That would have been me, Mrs. Fuzzy.
Laussanne and I got a little gardening done before the weekend (how can I ever begin to thank this wonderful woman????) and on Monday we ran off to hike the Buffalo, our local mountain. It was an all-girl affair... humans and dogs. This is Laussanne, her little dog and our foster girl, Lady, at the summit.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. There was the weekend... which found your authors covered in soot and turning little rods of iron into very functional spoons. On day one Mr. Fuzzy made two spoons while remembering how to do things. I created scrap, learned that iron sparklers are not a "good thing," and all the truly basic basics of blacksmithing. On day two I made two spoons while Mr. Fuzzy made two more spoons and a fork. I am now trying to decide where to erect our soon-to-be-built forge. This was the most pleasurable craft I have ever tried and I'm chomping at the bit to do more! Thank you, Brian, for opening up a whole world of possibilities for me!
And then we were alone with a garden quite overgrown and 26 young chickens in way too small a space....
We have our work cut out for us trying to get the gardens under control but after a few good hours of work I got the chicken yard erected. The fence is a combination of U posts, reinforcing mesh, and poultry wire with a piece of scrap for the gate. It's so ugly it's pretty.... just like the coop! I'd never used a circular saw before, can't make an accurate measurement, and am no good at planning things out so this whole building venture seems like a minor miracle to have it all done.
We now have some very happy cluckers. When I put them away for the night I could hear them excitedly telling stories of their individual adventures, of the menacing cats, and that terrifying black dog that barked ever so loudly. No doubt they have moved on to discussing the finer points of catching ants and their glorious subjugation of those other two dogs.
They say not to count your chicks before they're hatched but when you mail order them you always get what you ask for... plus one "to keep them warm." This is our mystery chick. He or she would appear to be some sort of bantam with a very upright walk and calm demeanor.
He and his 25 buddies are living in a box in the garage because, well, I'm a little slow when I build stuff. Mr. Fuzzy tweaked his back the other day and, you know, it takes a lot of thinking to build and hang a couple fairly simple doors out of really scrappy scrap materials by yourself when you've not done it before. (Dogs make lousy helpers, by the way.)
On the good side... my chicken shed will only have set us back about $60 and I've learned how to use a little circular saw. Score one for Mrs. Fuzzy conquering another useless tool phobia!
The chick order has been placed! I'm really buying 25 day old chickens by post. It's sort of unreal.... I mean, animals come to us by chance and impulse but we've been talking this over for nearly 18 months!
After much debate, oohing and aawing over pictures, and talking to a few actual chicken keepers we settled on Murray McMurray Hatchery and two kinds of chickens. Our initial decision was for Opringtons and Dominiques but they don't breed Orps so we're getting Cochins in several types - two colors of "frizzled" bantams and "partridge" standards.
14 February 2009
In response to my last post, Lausanne asked where I found out about Turkens and I'm proud to say it was in my Christmas stocking! I'm completely delighted with this little magazine that Russ gave me because it's exactly my speed... I'm a slow learner and I know absolutely nothing about chickens. That's a Turken on the cover.
The proper name for the breed is "Naked Neck" but Turken is so much more colorful, don't you think?
I've been reading all the books my little local library has on chickens. The first book presumes your "small flock" is 100 to 300 chickens. I was thinking dozen or so this year! It also mentioned all the terrible things chickens do to eachother and that one should prevent this with an improved environment but didn't give a single suggestion of HOW.
That's big ag for you....
Second book was called The Chicken Health Handbook by Gail Damerow and THAT was a useful tome! She gives really clear explanations of why chickens get sick, peck eachother, and do what chickens do. She also advocates for letting chickens be chickens. Now that's good advice with any animal! Her answer to pecking: they're compulsively attracted to the sight of blood. Her basic fix? Exactly what you said you did Laussane... darkness. If they can't see it then they won't peck. (Now you can take your time getting to the library in all that Vermont snow!)
That exhausted the local adult holdings of the Jesse Peterman Memorial Library. Now I'm on to the juvenile section which had a useful looking book geared to the young 4-H crowd. I've not had a chance to crack it but I'm thinking the coop plans and management strategies will be better geared to my size of flock.
One of these nights I'm going to turn the thermostat up in the basement (or maybe get the WiFi fixed) and see what Temple Grandin, the livestock handling expert, might have observed about the needs of chickens. I'm imagining, based on the few loose flocks I've seen, that they like a variety of heights in their perches and nice tight roosts that feel like they're unassailable.
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