My bedroom is upstairs in an old farmhouse dating from the 1730’s. It’s under the attic eaves, uninsulated (except at night by a Great Dane called Bentley!) and the window by my bed won’t close completely. That window overlooks a new chicken and duck enclosure which is mostly a good thing. If I hear a chicken or duck commotion in the early hours it means a racoon is visiting and I can run outside, usually in time to head off trouble.
Most mornings I awaken to the sound of “Bob”, a huge Barred Rock (that’s a breed with little black and white sort of squares all over) crowing in the crepe myrtle under my bedroom window. That’s around 5:30 or 6 which is right when I need to get up anyway.
This morning I woke to a new sound. I lay in bed analyzing it…I was happy when I quickly realized that it wasn’t an animal in pain so I knew I didn’t have to get up, find my flashlight and run out in the rain. It didn’t sound like a car-Ghoston Road is notorious for car wrecks on rainy nights and the farm is right on a curve that late night drivers often miss especially if they see a deer. It was a repetitive noise…sort of like a old metal sign twisting in the wind at an old abandoned gas station somewhere…an image from an old movie I’ve seen I guess.
The odd noise went on and on and I finally figured out the source-several of my hens have hatched a brood lately and the chicks are turning into teens and several are young roosters I”ll be needing to rehome. It was the young roosters deciding to get a jump on Bob by crowing early. This went on for about 10 minutes, along with the sound of the rain. Then Bob cut in and the youngsters stopped. I’d love to know if he elbowed them aside, saying “step aside boys, this is my job”…but chickens don’t have elbows.
Rain again this morning….I try really hard to envision lush pasture (meaning less expensive hay to buy) and Spring flowers but all I see is mud mud mud everywhere I look. Poor Nelson, the pony, looks at me sadly every time he leaves the barn to slosh his way across the barnyard.
The ducks are happy as they can be with all this rain. I have three breeds of ducks now-Indian Runner, Muscovy, and Mallard. They eat all the grass seed I keep putting out and they pick all the grass out by the root. The mallards fly at about 5 feet across the yard now and then and the Indian Runners try to emulate, but they aren’t built for flying. The Muscovy who are very heavy looking occasionally surprise me by being up on the roof of the house or on top of the duck pen.
I have one little week old chick in the house under lights. His Mother hen got eaten the very night he was hatching outside and luckily I was checking on the nest (she had taken over half the duck house to sit on a variety of duck and chicken eggs). I brought him, half hatched and the other eggs inside to the incubator which I quickly set up to get him warm. Two of the duck eggs looked good (I can look inside with a very strong light called a “candler” in a dark room and see the baby animal moving inside) but very sadly the incubator decided to stop working one night after this one hatched so he’s a single and a bit lonely. He’s living in an aquarium at present on the dining room table and the dogs circle round all day. They’d love to “meet” him if you know what I mean.
If anyone has a spare incubator I’d love to borrow it now that mine isn’t working.
On another note, I’m considering buying a darling miniature donkey that is available in Oxford. This would be perfect for the “living Nativity” I do each year at our church. I am also looking at a Dad sheep since Sophie Brown, my Katahdin sheep is lonesome…I am wondering if anyone would sponsor one for naming and visiting privileges.
Update a week later-photo of the little chick outside for the first time. He’s still mostly inside, but came out for a photo shoot with Santa.
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