Things Aren't Always What They First Appear...

I was going through some old photos tonight and ran across this one of my husband standing out in the back yard of the old house one evening years ago.

 Which looks fine, all is normal...until you realize that he has a chicken on his head.

She'd decided that she wanted to roost there for the night.

This was Poof the white crested black Polish hen's first night with us.  She had been sold to us from the feed store, who not only claimed that she was a rooster, but also 'mean'.  Well, as I stood at the feed store looking at the chicken pen, I knew that they were wrong on the 'rooster' part, and asked the lady helping me why they took this particular bird to be 'mean'.

"Because if you walk into the pen, that bird comes right up to you and tugs on your pant leg!"

Ah.

Anyone who knows chickens, knows the difference between flogging--a quick charge at you and a beating with the wings and claws, a true attack--from the behavior this woman was describing--a bird walking up to you, gently grabbing your pant leg and tugging a bit to get your attention.

What Poof was really doing was the universal chicken signal that means, 'Pick me up.'  Certain chickens are little attention sponges and demand affection.  Sometimes they'll also stand on your foot so that you cannot get away without paying attention to them.  I knew right away that Poof had been someone's special pet, and she came home with us.

I was right--she was as sweet, gentle and friendly as they came, and took especially to my daughter, then 4 years old, who was also the one who named her.  This was taken the same evening, when Poof wanted to climb into her lap.

 Poof wanted nothing more than to hang with people, and would actually, honest to God play with my daughter--first she'd chase Poof, then Poof would chase her, and back again, around and around the nectarine tree, the kid giggling like mad.  If the kid stopped before she was ready, Poof would come up to her and want to play more.  None of the other chickens would participate and would in fact look at the two of them like they were crazy.

'Now don't you chase me!'

...and off they'd go.

Other chickens running away from the crazy-headed chicken.

It was one of the weirdest, sweetest chicken behaviors I've ever seen, and they played like this for several years.

Happy New Year!

I was putting away the Christmas stuff the other day and came upon Poof, our blind, elderly White Crested black Polish househen quietly sitting on these ornaments, bless her little maternal chicken-y heart.

She carefully scooted in amongst them and was trilling and clucking at them ever so softly...

Sorry Poof sweetie, I just don't think this particular clutch is ever gonna hatch.

It's Art Time!

Another drawing from the kid, this time featuring a close call for Poof, our White Crested Black Polish hen. The thing on her head is her enormous feathery headdress.

I love the expression on her face and her jaw hitting the floor in dismay...

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.

Bad Habits & Racial Memory

Poof, our White Crested Black Polish hen, has managed to start a fad amongst her sisters.

She likes to perch each evening in the nectarine tree, in a spot where she can see the sun go down, and watch the sunset. Afterwards she jumps down and goes to roost in the coop, where she is SUPPOSED to. Soulful little thing, for a chicken...

Unfortunately, several of the OTHER hens have decided that this looks both keen and fun, and have taken to perching in the same tree, only HIGHER and they don't get down and go in like they are supposed to, little brats.

This results in me shaking nectarine tree branches each night until it rains angry hens and cussing Poof for starting such a dorky fad.

Also, somehow a few of the chickens, some of which were not hatched by us and came along AFTER we moved the coop door clear to the other end of the run, inevitably will go to the OLD coop door and frantically run back and forth, wanting to be let in there. It's like a racial memory and kinda spooky, seeing as how we closed that door more than a year ago and they have NEVER even seen it open. It's made of wood & hardware cloth, just like the rest of the coop so it is not obviously a door, either. And the NEW coop door is a steel mesh security door.

Weird...

Off-Season Indoor Easter Egg Hunt!

When it's raining heavily, as it is this morning, we have 5 hens that need to take shelter in the house. This is because their heavily feathered head crests can get wet, pull on their heads and cause brain injuries. Since they don't have the sense to shelter in the coop during the rain, inside they come. Usually they are well mannered and just kind of tool around in the kitchen until the rain stops and they can go back outside to hunt for drowned bugs.

But today, unfortunately, TWO of the girls were gearing up to lay an egg.

This means lots of anxious searching for THE perfect nest site, accompanied by top-of-the-lungs caterwauling. We've gone through this before, so I just try to wait it out, reassuring them from time to time that they are OK, and with repeated pleas to just lay the damned egg already.

So Poof searches and inspects the area behind one of the living room end tables...

Hmmmm....nice, but not quite perfect...how about in that pile of unfolded laundry?

Perfect!



Meanwhile, the other hen, Sugar, has become ominously quiet. When I go to find out where she has gotten to, I find her thus:

That's a bowl full of oranges I picked off the backyard tree yesterday, intended for Blood Orange jelly and marmalade today. I removed the egg (and the one in the laundry) later after it was properly worshipped and appreciated by all, an important part of the egg laying process.

I think this is quite possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen.

I Find It Interesting...

that the amazing and beautiful rainbow of eggs we get from our assorted flock of hens includes creamy pink, army green, robin's egg blue, pale blue, beige and dark brown...note the lone white egg in the center...

...the hens who lay these eggs are generally your Basic Model Chickens, although some DO have the Americaunas facial tufts and beards. Hardly exotic looking though.

Amusingly, the REALLY exotic-looking hens, the Polish, with their fancy headgear and beautiful lacing on their feathers--

...are our only white egg layers. :)

Whatd'ya mean, my eggs are 'plain'?!

New Additions To The Family...

Making a simple trip to the feed store can be dangerous.

Pictured here are three of the newest additions to the group of Garden Destructors we have living in the back yard:

These are two small--but incredibly heavy and solid--Dark India Cornish Rock Bantam hens that so far have the unflattering name of "The Tank Girls".  Cornish Rocks are the game hens you see mostly wrapped in plastic at the grocery store.  They are extremely sweet and have that so-ugly-you-love-it quality to their faces--they remind me of the extinct Dodo bird. They are wider than they are tall and have a definite waddle when they walk. They can't climb up the ladder to roost, so we'll need to build a lower perch for them. With their gravely voices, they don't cluck so much as burble.  Their feathers are small yet incredibly soft, and their feathering is tight with little to no fluff.  Think a shot put with feathers.

Here's the other new one--a young White Crested Black Bearded Polish hen, so hungry for attention that she runs up to us and jumps in our lap, or pecks your shoes to get you to pick her up. This behaviour led to the people at the feed store labeling her as not only a rooster, but 'mean' as well. This bird was obviously someone's lap pet before she came to us and doesn't have a mean bone in her body. Also with that huge poof of feathers on her head, she can't see worth a darn.

The new birds are settling in well, and our other birds are taking the new additions in stride. Of course, we have been doing some major league sucking up to the new and old birds with the help of a bag of mealworms--the equivilant of candy (or Crack!) to chickens.

We went to the Orange County Fair yesterday for the last time this year--it'll be gone soon. I'm trying to give our daughter N. classic childhood memories whenever possible and the county fair is an important part of that. Our daughter had a great time; played some games and won a large stuffed red dog (which was actually mostly a 'give' from the carny who ran the booth, she can sucker in adults and wrap them around her little finger like no one's business), rode several rides all by herself which she proudly told anyone about who would stand still long enough to listen, J. had a turkey leg and I had deep fried zucchini (strangely, it wasn't on a stick like everything else) which we shared with N. We stopped by the small animal barn and admired the many chickens and rabbits that were on display. I'm not a fan of the cloven hoofed animals-- when I was a kid we lived a few doors down from a LARGE smelly pen of goats and I still can't get past the smell.

At the end of the evening we loaded the stuffed animal prizes, leftover zucchini, the remains of a cinnamon roll and a black pearl that N. had gotten out an oyster she had chosen, into the car. We had ended up with one lone ride ticket at the end of it all--all of the rides take at least three tickets--which we left on one of the tables of a food booth for someone to find and use.

Today my main job is to search IKEA online to see if they have a decent twin bedstead for N.--she has outgrown her crib so it's 'Big Girl Bed' time--great excitement over that. So it's computer and soak my aching feet time.

Beyond that I'm incapable today. Besides, the Los Angeles county fair opens in a few weeks, can't miss that!