Merry Chickmas!

Santa hats on chickens!  Time to humiliate the roosters!

I dunno, it's just funnier with the boys.  Bloop is first, doing it wrong since he fits in the hat better in this direction. 

He wanted to kill me.

Then Weedcat the Head Roo.  He clearly did not find it as funny as the kid did.

Weedcat is a big, heavy guy and hard for the kid to hold, so my husband took over.  Poor Weeds humored us.

Instant dignity removal.

Mushroom the bantam Cochin roo wore his hat in style, he  is a jaunty little guy!

Happy holidays from all us chickens!

ARRRGGHHH, DAMNED ROOSTERS ANYWAY!

Yeah, another round of Weedcat vs Cam. Cam managed to tear the almost healed scabs off Weeds' face, so once again Weeds got the worst of it. They both ended up with a bunch of missing neck feathers, too.  Neither is seriously hurt, though.

This time, it had been raining for two days and both boys were covered with a mixture of blood & mud, so it was bath time all around.

ROOSTER SHAMING
This was after I'd been forced to just hose off his head & neck to get most of the gunk off. Not such a big shot when you're all wet, are you Weedcat?

Next it's time for the pretty beach towel!

 OK Cam, your turn!
Next to the word 'Dipshit' in the dictionary is this picture.

 He had no clue what the big white tub was for.

But that changed pretty damned quick.  

 Pretty towel time for you, too.

 Then he got to see what a bad boy looked like.

 Scrawny, embarrassed rooster.

They both got dried with the hair dryer and stayed inside for another hour and a half until totally dry since it's still cold & wet outside, then Cam went back out into the coop. Weeds is inside tonight and probably tomorrow until I'm sure no one will peck at his wounds, then HE goes into the coop and Cam into the small run like before.

I swear I'm gonna stuff them both in a box and mail them to Argentina. We're within a couple of weeks of having the back of the property cleared, planted & fenced so they'll have a 1/2 acre to roam--but no, they have to do this NOW.

Now that Cam is dry I can see that Weedcat managed to remove ALL of Cam's fluffy face feathers. Guess he spoiled Cam's pretty-boy good looks until they grow back.

Wattle Wiggle Wars, Round 2

Not content to humiliate roosters just one day, this weekend we Wattle Wiggled again:

This time it was Honey first--he is the one practically roaring 'Oh, NO!' and grumping all the way to the camera, then settling down and seeming to dig it.  Then for a bit we get to admire Bloop the MilleFleur Belgian d'Uccle roosters' comb.  After that comes Meeko, who submits with only slightly more grace.

Today has been devoted to fall yard clean-up, we dumped three loads of leaves into the coop and now have very happy, busy chickens.  We cleaned up a bit in the back of the yard,  carefully skirting the brush pile that about 100 California quail have decided to call home.  Our afternoon foray into the very back of the property to clean was accompanied by shudders & wailed imprecations at previous tenants as we dredged up a wonderland of trash, as usual around here. Good God.  Every time we go out a new layer of crap has writhed it's way to the surface for us to gaze at in horrified fascination.  I don't know what my neighbors must think, seeing me walk the property with a big bucket and a trash-grabbing gizmo all the time.

Also, some largish critter--I suspect a raccoon or a skunk--has been digging under the perimeter fence to go in and out of the yard.  Not sure what to do about securing that much fence down below ground level to seal out chicken-eating beasties. Every solution I can think of involves weeks of digging and miles of expensive wire.

Wattle Wiggle Wars!

Because of this:

We were forced--FORCED I tell you--to do this:

Fred was merely confused, but Weedcat's dignity was somewhat bruised.

New Eggs & Killin' Rats

The ladies from our first hatch this year have begun to lay--delicate, petite little first eggs that we sometimes find left lying in the run like little whoopsies.  The roo boys have also begun to crow, much to Weedcat & Bloop's disgust--although Meeko's crows are just single note, drawn-out 'Ooooo's.  Weedcat stared at him in disbelief and carefully crowed back at him, obviously trying to show him how it's really done.

I don't expect to get many eggs from this year's chicks this late in the year, but next Spring should be a 'Oh my GOD I've laid an EGG!' caterwaulfest supreme.  Right now everyone is concentrating on growing feathers as the nighttime temperatures steadily drop, all the chickens are getting amusingly fluffy and are lots of fun to scoop up & snoodle.

As for me, I'm concentrating on pre-snow yard cleanup and the final shots at house projects like painting before it gets too cold & wet.  This week is slated for things that I call "Killin' Rats"--small, unexciting, annoying chores that need to get done.

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...

Perfect Match!

...the sewing, not so much. I'm not really thrilled with this one.

After this one, the next will be delayed a bit as N. starting 6th grade and her 11th birthday kinda take over all my free time, not to mention my finally getting the pain control injections to my right knee done.

Also, our 6 month old crippled housechickens are feeling their age. This morning Guardian, a gray Giant Cochin rooster, crowed. And my GOD, was he ever LOUD. He's never even attempted crowing before, so it was more like a single-note yell.

But he's a big birdie and makes a big noise!

He looked a bit surprised at himself, and he immediately got Phoenix, our Head Roo out in the back yard, crowing back as Phoenix wondered who the Hell the big guy in the house was.

The Slobby Cochin Brothers...

who are living in the front entryway are like big (I was going to say 'little', but they ain't little no more!) static dust mops. Their feathers collect and hold an amazing amount of the shavings in their box. Add to that their habit of energetic flapping, which helps to distribute shavings and dust to parts of the house that they may have missed.

Then we humans come along and track the stuff everywhere.

So having Puni and Guardian in the house is an ongoing cleaning project. But due to their crippled leg each, they cannot go outside much--we have a special pen for them, but since there is sickness going through the flock and they haven't caught it, we don't want to expose them. So they are inside for now and are bored, bored, bored. We try to entertain them and they can see the TV from where they are, so I guess that helps.

Other than their bad leg each, they have both grown into gorgeous Large Cochin roos, and have big, soft, fluffy, impressive feathering--and at only 5 months old! They are also big sweeties that LOVE attention, cuddling and petting. I believe they are both roos based on their feathering, but neither has ever crowed so far--they hardly make any noises, actually, just some soft clucks here and there, and Guardian lives up to his name by sounding his alarm cackle every so often.

Hopefully by years' end I'll have the money saved up for the surgery each one needs to straighten out and reset their legs--each of which work, but are pointing the wrong direction. My dream is to see them happy and out in the yard someday...

Goodbye, Jack...

Well, just to keep the depression going, we unexpectedly lost Jack, our 8 year old Barred Rock rooster last night. He and Wild Child were a couple, the grand old couple of the flock. He died suddenly but quietly in his sleep less than 24 hours after Wild Child went, and we buried him right next to Wild Child in a bed of roses just like hers.  He had been clearly distressed and depressed, searching for her...I think if it's possible to die from a broken heart, Jack just may have.

The rest of the flock is mostly standing around staring at each other or wandering aimlessly about the yard in clumps. They look at each other as if to say, "Well, what do we do now?" In two short days they have lost their father, protector and lover in Jack, and their mother, matriarch and guardian in Wild Child. The flock dynamic has been thrown into turmoil with no clear successors to either the Head Roo or Head Hen posts.

We are trying to keep them company as much as we can. When we go out into the yard they group around us more than they normally do, even the normally more standoffish birds. I'm trying to adjust to the loss of two long-time and well-loved pets. Anyone who has ever had an older pet, no matter what kind, knows how incredibly cool and laid-back they are to have around. I also can't help but look at the others and wonder who is next. Several of our chickens are older and recent events have left me gun-shy, trying to steel myself to finding another dead bird. It's no fun.

Jack was our household symbol. We use his image and his name in our email, our Internet dealings...so many things. Emotionally I'm a train wreck, but that is, indeed, the cost of keeping pets. It's just hard when such a big bill comes due all at once.

This has not been a good week.