Not Perfect...But Better!

Well today we made inroads towards happier poultry by creating some temporary nests for them. We got some loose hay at the feed store, and rummaging around in the barn yielded a small red basket, a large wicker basket, an old tin washtub and a wooden pear crate--perfect!

No sooner had I installed them than they were thoroughly inspected. Phoenix looks on while Rambo awkwardly stands half in and half out of a nest, nibbling bits of the hay.

Then he just joins in while Rambo remains in her silly pose. Goofy birds.

Even Bear approves!

No eggs since the move, but I expected them to fall out of lay with such a drastic upheaval. Tomorrow we start creating an outdoor run for them, being in the barn all the time is a definite drag for them.

...And Chicken Bliss

After a tough morning's work of handing a hawk its ass, what better way to unwind than a good dust bath?

At least Phoenix thought so...

Of course, God forbid he get a moment to himself to relax, he immediately had hens crowding in with him.

Fran, the buff Frizzle, was being especially obnoxious, stepping on his head and pulling his tail. Phoenix, of course put up with it gracefully but did shoot me a long-suffering look.

They just kept coming until he had quite the adoring hen audience.

Happy Easter!

Got our Easter egg hunt in before the rain came down, thankfully. The chickens enjoyed this weird, mystifying ritual as usual.

Bear investigates the egg basket...

...and later mugs the kid for an egg.

She also enjoys snuggling with J.--she ONLY does this if he is wearing his robe.

While Phoenix looks on with a jealous stare and whines, which is what HE does every time. When chicken distrusts a situation or wants to keep a close eye on something, they turn their head and look at it with one eye, as he is doing here. That is because they see better this way rather than looking straight on at something.  So while it looks like Phoenix is looking at me, he is actually keeping a watchful eye on Bear and worrying.

Poof the White Crested Black Polish hen shows off her spurs:

Scott heybabies some hens...

A stretch & flap from Smokey.

Yoya the gray Giant Cochin and Phoenix pose for a communist propaganda poster.

'Ya comrade, now heroically look out into the glorious future!'

Bug, who is broody, emerges after a bit to stomp around the yard and be irritated. The other chickens are careful not to make direct eye contact, as broody hens are like the crazy, dangerous homeless guy who hangs out behind the minimart and holds angry conversations with an invisible friend.

We hand out some Easter eggs, of course. While the others look on in amazement, Sora the White Leghorn levitates to get one!

Betty tries it, too!

In the end they all got some yummy hard-boiled eggs are everyone was happy.

OK, THIS Is Just Getting Ridiculous Now...

Phoenix, our 1/2 Barred Rock 1/2 Americaunas rooster, takes after his father, Jack (Barred Rock) in many ways. Sweet temperment, same build, etc.

He also carries Jack's leanings towards being a weaponized chicken. Here's his daddy Jack, with a look at Jack's spurs...those KNIVES he carried on his legs:

Now, Jack was beyond sweet, a very laid-back roo who would never dream of attacking a human with beak, wing or claw. Or spur, thank God. We could just walk up to him and pet him or scoop him up and carry him around at will. Phoenix is just like him. Which is a damned good thing, because yesterday Phoenix finally molted the end of one of his spurs (which I had been grabbing and worrying with my hand every so often over the last month or so, twisting it a wee bit in an effort to loosen it). Roosters are supposed to molt their spurs every so often as needed, and Phoenix had hung on to his WAY too long. I'm sure the hens, come Springtime and the mating season, will appreciate his shedding the stupid thing more than anyone--he had molted the other one back over the summer. So here is Phoenix's latest contribution to my rooster spur collection:

If it was straight it would be 6 1/2 inches long. Truly the definition of 'overkill'. This, by the way, is the cap--Phoenix still has a spur that is about 2 inches long on the shank of his leg.

Aw, my widdow sweetums Roo-Boy of Death...

Chicken Site Missing For Now!

Argh, my stupid site provider has taken down my chicken info site with no explanation and won't respond to our repeated emails. I KNOW it's all paid up and there are no problems with the site content, so I don't know what the heck is going on--but I suspect the provider is going under. We're working on moving my site to another provider, for now if anyone needs my help with anything chicken just let me know here.

Bloody frustrating though!

Our Head Hen, Bear, who is turning 9 years old this year has been under the weather. I'm not sure what her issue is but I'm treating for for a few likely causes (God, my kingdom for a microscope so I can do fecal smears--!)...but it may simply be her age. Phoenix the Head Roo is fretting for her and staying close by her side. We had her in for a few nights this last week when the temps got really cold overnight and learned after the first night to bring Phoenix in, too. He was SO worried about her the morning after that first night and was overjoyed to see her the next morning, he danced and danced around her for several minutes, chuckling and talking to her. I felt really bad, I didn't realize he'd think the worst the next morning!

We'll have to watch them both closely, I still remember when my first Head Hen, Wild Child, died from old age--my Head Roo, Jack, died about 24 hours later, out of the blue--I'm convinced of a broken heart. Phoenix is Jack's son, and has the same personality. But Bear is looking better the last two days, and the weather is FINALLY cutting us some slack on all the damned rain.

Weeping Angel Nearing The 3/4 Done Mark...Plus Bonus Randomness!

I've got two of the wing sides put together, more loose feathers painted & ready to get glued down, the wig is painted and the dress is halfway painted. Waiting for things to dry takes quite a bit of time.

I still have to work up the backpack/wing harness rig, but really that will have to wait until the wings are done. Tomorrow I'll paint the tights while they are on the kid & let them dry while she's wearing them. Cutting down the fingers and creating the 'gloves' out of the tights is giving me the most trouble so far, the tights are surprisingly hard to sew. I know my sewing machine can hack it, the trouble is at my end in the learning curve.

It's been a strange day today. My neighbor knocked on my door at 1:30 asking for a ride to Kaiser and holding her arm, which was hurting & hanging useless at her side. Her husband & son weren't home, and the little English she speaks is very difficult to understand--and my Spanish is even worse. I took her, but partway over I figured that she was having a heart attack (pain & numbness down the arm is a symptom) and I was gonna have to put my CPR training to work...turns out she'd had surgery recently to repair some torn shoulder tendons and was checking in with her doctor. Whew!

After that, Phoenix, my big rooster, managed to tear off one of his claw tips & bled all over himself. I was in the house & had a sudden urge to check on the chickens, and he was standing near the back porch. I got the feeling I needed to check him, and found the bloody foot. He was OK at that point, nothing I could do for him. But he did hang around for pets & cuddles, all males like attention when they are sick/hurt, I guess. :)



A few hours later I had my OWN ride to the urgent care center when I stepped on a Hellaciously HUGE old, nasty, rusty, FILTHY upholstery foot with about a 6 penny nail in it. The people that used to live here used the back yard for a garbage dump and stuff still surfaces every so often, I managed to drive the damned thing into my foot admirably solidly. So off for a Tetanus shot & antibiotics.

Really am hoping that tomorrow is less...ah...'interesting'. For everyone.

More On The Bags...

Update on the shopping bags, slow but steady...I decided to have some fun and make the hen and roo match the Head Rooster and Head Hen of our flock, Phoenix and Bear. For reference, here is Phoenix:

and Bear...

Here is the finished second bag, 'Old Batch':

I'm pretty happy with the way he came out, although the metallic floss was, again, very hard to work with so I changed my design a bit and didn't use it as much as I'd planned. Here is a better look at the detail:

His hat gave me trouble, it came out looking more like a pancake for some reason.

More trouble came in the form of my 10 year old daughter, who was enjoying an unauthorized snack of black olives, and spilled the bowl on BOTH of the finished bags, staining them with nice, dark, olive juice.

This one, which also shows the finished pocket of the first bag, took the most damage...

The pocket was such a pain to work with I just did the outline on most of it and will keep the pockets simple. I hope (and so does she, believe me!) that this stuff washes right out. I know that these bags WILL take some abuse and pick up dirt in usage, but Hell, I expected them to at least make their initial trip TO the market unscathed. How she managed to nuke the only two finished bags I'll never know!

Score One Point For Me...

...no DVT! Interesting that my G.P. had the test done at the hospital...now I know why, though. The tech told me that if they found anything, I would not have been allowed to leave and would have been admitted right away. REALLY glad the test was negative.

Got to talking with the girl who did the patient paperwork, though...turns out she used to be a dental assistant, just like me. So we swapped a few dental stories. As usual, she worked for a DDS who had all the warmth and personality of sandpaper (most do). I've been SO lucky with my past bosses...well, some of them, anyway.

So, now I just have to go BACK to my pain management Dr. and see what the HELL is going on with this stupid knee, already. Next up is yet another MRI to see inside the damned thing.

Also took Phoenix the roo to the vet, he's got an infection of the footpad known as Bumblefoot going on--very hard to clear up. Doc cleaned it out some, we get to do most of the work on that, twice a day plus antibiotic injections twice daily. Phoenix is gonna be one pissed-off housechicken until his foot heals, which can take up to a month--Bumblefoot is notoriously hard to clear up. Phoenix is BIG and loves to jump UP on things, then jumps DOWN and that's when the footpad gets traumatized. He's just too heavy to be pulling that nonsense.

Luckily he's a complete gentleman, and has our two little one legged chicks for company, so he won't be too lonely. But reintroducing him to the flock and managing Scott, our bantam roo's behavior is gonna be a bitch...cross that bridge when we come to it!

Latest Weird Nesting Site...

Yesterday I pruned back a bunch of rose bushes, leaving the cuttings out overnight for the tortoise and the chickens to forage in.

This morning...

Bear decided to lay an egg in there, you can just see her little face peeking out. Now--I cannot THINK of a more uncomfortable nest than a pile of pure rose branches, with all those thorns! I SWEAR they have nest boxes, lovely proper wooden ones with loads of fresh straw.

Nope. Nothing will do but this nasty pile of thorny branches. Even Phoenix the rooster was looking at her like she was nuts.

Weirdos.

Oh Good, More Rain.

I just can't say that and sound sincere anymore. And I love rain. But really...Mother Nature, are you listening? Enough, please. The snowpack is good, the lakes are full, the lawn is lush, the car has been rinsed clean. We're good here. I think that Texas is most likely still (or again) on fire, could you send a little their way? Thankyouverymuch.

Besides which, the chickens look like drowned rats and are NOT happy. When they aren't happy, they blame ME.


The "Before" version of Phoenix:

Phoenix soaked and embarassed:

Oh NO!!! Don't take my PICTURE!

Ya Gotta Think Like A Kid...

Tomorrow I go in for surgery...NOT my favorite thing...to remove the metal bar and 6 or 8 screws that are holding my left ankle together. Yesterday and today I've been trying to get the things done that require me walking/driving/leaving the house/being upright. Bank...grocery store...gassing up the car...the kind of chores I refer to as "killin' rats"--that is, things that have to get done, but nobody likes doing. I'm also digging out my Advance Directive paperwork to take along, much as thinking of that kind of thing is Big Time No Fun and makes me cringe a bit, it's gotta be done. My own personal take is: No heroic measures (which means no rescusitating me or placing feeding tubes if it means I'll be a vegetable and have no quality of life), and if I pass away I want to donate any organs they can use and cremate the rest of me. Strip me for parts and burn the rest, heck I'll be long gone anyway so I won't care. *L* J. has the same plans, although he still needs to officially fill out the paperwork. Hate that general anesthetic, *bleah*. I really am fascinated by surgery anyway so I'd prefer to be able to watch, but they don't allow it.

This evening I was out enjoying the grass and visiting with the chickens since I'm going to be in the house for the next few days/weeks (our house is raised and has no wheelchair ramps). Phoenix the rooster

 Ain't he cute? Goofy, but pretty!

came over to be friendly, so I picked him up, talked to him and petted him. I teased him a bit with my standard line as I gently felt his little meaty thighs, "Ooh, aren't we a yummy, meaty bird! Umm, yep he's just about ready to eat, FEEL those meaty little drumsticks!" Phoenix just gives me a "Sure, like you'd ever really eat me. I know you're full of BS." look and bears with it. N. came over and said, "Can I?" OK, I said, but gently. She does, feeling his thigh and saying, "Yum, ice cream!"

I was laughing so hard I had to set Phoenix down. Drumsticks=ice cream, in the mind of a 5 year old... :)

Horrid Tasty Thing

So this afternoon I was out enjoying the waning of the day...the chickens had been fed and were wandering contentedly about the yard...my daughter was playing happily with the bubbles I was blowing.

Suddenly, one of the young chickens darts across the yard over by the coop in what was clearly the furtive "I've got a really cool goodie" dash, with three other birds in hot pursuit. Problem is, I haven't handed out anything, and it was clearly a large, tasty something that this chicken had in his beak. Off I go to give chase, wondering what the heck they've gotten into NOW. As I join the chicken parade and we all double-time it in circles around the yard, the Tasty Thing is looking more and more like...a fish.

A smallish fish, to be sure...

Wondering how in the Hell a fish has made it into my landlocked suburban yard, I get serious about getting Tasty Thing away from a very determined bird. By now the rest of the chickens have wisely given up the chase, since Phoenix has it, and the Head Hen (me) is obviously showing waaaay too much interest in Tasty Thing.

Except now Tasty Thing is actually looking kinda like a human finger...! A decrepit and rotting finger, but still very fingerlike nonetheless.

At this point I pick up my daughter's toy shovel, intent on getting Horrid Tasty Thing OUT of my pet's beak. Meanwhile, my husband, who throughout this entire time has been on the roof working on the air conditioner and has had a ringside seat to this fiasco, is shouting, "What is it? What IS it?!"

"I dunno!" I yell back, brandishing the toy shovel at Phoenix, who has by now taken refuge under the patio table. NOW, here comes my 4 year old daughter to 'help', saints preserve us. I make one last, desperate, blind lunge at the chicken under the table, and am rewarded with a loud squawk. To my relief the offended bird runs out from under the other side of the table, sans Horrid Tasty Thing. Oh goodie, now I get to play with it.

"Jesus!" I involuntarily yell when I finally get a good look at it.

"What IS IT?!" Again from the roof, sounding anguished and disturbed.

"Uh...." Ugh, necessity dictates that I now look closely at Horrid Tasty Thing, assisted by a half-hearted prod from a handy nearby stick.

"Geez, it's a SNAKE!" I call up to the roof. Actually it's just the head and an inch or two of neck/body, and judging by the many beak holes in it, is obviously a discarded snack from the local crows...double ugh...

"Where in the Hell did they get a snake?!" from above in disbelief.

I don't know, but I've learned that where there's one, there's more. By the way, my brain whispers to me...where's the REST of Horrid Tasty Thing? 

Away to the coop I fly, searching for more bits and pieces. To my relief I don't find any, but this is also worrisome since I now wonder if my preschooler will be next to produce a grisly offering. I return to further inspect the decapitated monster, and decide that what it really is, is a REALLY BIG lizard. Great. Lizards we have in abundance and I welcome them, although I much prefer them alive. Much better.

That poor chicken never did get Horrid Tasty Thing returned to him, but I did slip him a piece of pizza crust to help sooth  ruffled feathers.

Ahh, another sleepy day in suburbia...