Can You Hear the Chirping?

Nope, I'm not talking about the smoke detector with the battery going out.  It's that time again.  We pulled out one of the last remaining gallon bags of cut up chicken and figured out that it's time to order Cornish Cross Meat Birds.  I priced around and ended up ordering from the hatchery that's nearest us - Ideal Poultry in Cameron, TX.

Let me tell ya, day old meat bird chicks are doggone expensive these days!  We ordered 50 of them.  When all the dust settled after the shipping, taxes and fees added in, they were $4.38 per bird.  You read that right.  I had a little sticker shock but put the order in.  They confirmed the shipment for September 16th.  This morning we got a call from our local post office: "You have a box of live birds.  Come and get them."  We did.  We could hear the chirping when we opened the post office door.  Well, my wife could.  I'm as deaf as a post.

"I'd like a box of chicken.  No sides."

After leaving the post office, we went to the feed store and bought some 28% protein game bird starter.  Once home, I went to the barn and pulled down from the storage in the loft some metal siding we use as a brooder and got it all set up in the chicken tractor, dangling a heat lamp over it and filling water containers with a water and apple cider vinegar mixture.  I was going to use the paper to put feed on, but Tricia convinced me to use our chicken feed troughs instead.

We pray no varmints eat our chickens before we do.

Let's see the success rate of mailing live birds through the US postal service.  I pulled off the top of the box.  They seemed to be mighty content.  Not a single one dead.  Now the first task is I take them out of the box, counting them.  I dip their little heads in water and make sure they drink.  Then I set them down in the brooder.  Rinse. Wash. Repeat.  We got 51 birds.  They usually will give you a little lagniappe in the even that some die in transit.

"Tweet, tweet."

They are cute little critters - right now.  However, they don't stay cute for very long.  Each week for the next 8 weeks - likely on Wednesday, we'll take you on a journey with us so you can see their growth - from cradle to grave.  Sounds harsh, I know, but we raise these chicks for food.  In eight weeks they should be 8 pounds and yield a 6 pound carcass.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner

Here are all 51 chicks in their new home.  They are all spread out and that lets you know that the heat lamp is positioned correctly.  If it was too hot, they'd be up against the wall.  If it was too cold, they'd be all piled up.  They'll stay in the brooder until they get feathers and then we'll remove the brooder and let them forage on grass in the backyard as we push the chicken tractor so they get fresh grass each day.  They'll fertilize the soil so that the white Dutch clover and the crimson clover comes up lush this spring.  The honeybees will love it!  Ah, the circle of life.  Everyone benefits, well, almost everyone.  I walked out tonight to check on them and heard a peck, peck, pecking sound.  As I got nearer, I saw that the heat lamp was attracting mosquitoes.  The chicks were eating the mosquitoes as they were attracted to the light.  Very opportunistic.  

We put a blue tarp on top of the chicken tractor to help keep them dry in case of rain, fastening the tarp down with zip ties but leaving the ends and bottom open to keep good air flow going.

Hopefully, we'll be bringing a sizable amount of these 51 birds to butcher some time around mid-November. 

A View From the Kitchen Window

It's important to have a view from the kitchen window.  A lot of time is spent there.  Although we have a dishwasher, we haven't used it in years and hand wash and dry dishes and pots and pans and spoons and forks.  As we look out, we can see when honey or egg or milk customers drive up.  We watch the squirrels run and jump across the limbs in the live oak trees.  We saw the new swarm move into the column.

A few weeks ago we saw lots of activity in the cleyera shrub that is only 3 feet from the window.  It was a momma cardinal, and she was hard at work.  We spied on her as she carried twigs and straw and constructed a nest right in the crook of the shrub.

She was on a mission and seemed not to mind that she was being scrutinized in her construction project.  When she had it complete, she seemed satisfied and rested.  It felt like home.  Comfortable.  Safe.

Each day the momma cardinal would fly off briefly to find something to eat and then she'd come back and sit on her nest.  While male cardinals are dressed in bright red, the females are a light grey-ish red.  They aren't flashy at all - except for their beaks!  That beak stands out like a sore thumb.

One morning as the momma cardinal flew away for her morning coffee (black, no sugar added), I snuck outside and took a peek inside her nest to see what she was sitting on.

Three little eggs!  It reminds me of the "Robin Egg" candies that are so popular at Easter time.  Faithfully, everyday, rain or shine, the momma sat on her nest.  She had nothing to read, no cell phone to scroll on, yet she was focused on her job.  You know what?  She got the job done.  One morning we looked out and saw this!:

That's some ugly little birds right there!  At the slightest noise or movement, the heads pop up and mouths open wide.  And the mother bird was right there, bringing the babies what looked to be bugs and worms to eat.  

But it wasn't just the mother.  The father, dressed to the nines in his spiffy red suit showed up.  I thought he wanted to just inspect his offspring.

But it was more than that.  The father was bringing food, too!  He was leaning over feeding his babies.  Both the mother and father were taking part in the nurturing of the babies.  No absenteeism, but true teamwork in this home.  It was a touching thing to watch.  I wonder if humans could rediscover this virtue?  But I digress...

In what seemed like no time at all, the babies grew and grew until they had outgrown the nest!  Little feathers now covered their wings.  The once ugly, nude little creatures were now beginning to look like birds.

And then the time came for them to leave the nest.  Be safe, little birds.  Ginger, our cat, is a skilled hunter.  Fly high and out of the grasp of Ginger.  Oh, an empty nest.  It's quiet for sure, even in a human family.  Tricia and I can vouch for that.

Birds of a Feather

Back in March we hatched out some chicks from fertilized eggs from some of our hens.  We have them in the chicken tractor.  They are growing.  I'm pleasantly surprised that a fair number of them appear to be pullets and not cockerels.  We are raising them to replace those that we lost to minks and those we normally lose to old age and predation.  Our flock (not counting these) is down to 22 hens.  That's sad.

Benjamin let us know that one of his friends had about 130 laying hens that he needed to sell.  He just didn't have room for them anymore.  They are already laying eggs.  The price was reasonable, so we agreed to purchase 20 of them from him.  He was going to deliver them to us on Saturday.

It was raining when they arrived and we used a dog kennel to shuttle them from the cattle trailer they were delivered in back to the barn.  We loaded them in the rabbit hutches that the other birds roost in every night.  As you can see, they are a wide variety of birds.

The plan was to let them slowly get acclimated to their new environment.  Then I'd like to clip the feathers off one of their wings off so they cannot fly over the fence.

I clip one of their wings back with a pair of scissors.  This trim keeps them from flying over the fence.  Early on, I would clip both of their wings, but I soon learned that you only needed to clip one.  With one wing clipped, trying to fly is very hard to do as they're off balance.

By the time that I was finished, the hens could no longer fly.  Look at all the feathers on the ground below.  I don't want the birds going over the fence to be eaten by predators in the woods.

Once all 20 hens' wings were clipped, it was time to set them free.  One by one, they cautiously exited the cages and ambled over to where I had chicken scratch in some gutters.  They were hungry.

The very next morning I was amazed to learn that the roosters had gathered them all up and got the hens to roost in the cages.  The next day the new hens kind of kept close to the barn.  Each day they are venturing out further.  The next project is to get the henhouse secured so that they can all roost in the hen house, protected from minks.  For the time being our flock now numbers around 40 hens, with surely a few more hens that will be joining them from the birds we hatched out.

Babies Everywhere!

Our goat, Callie, just had a kid.  The fourth kid of spring.  More on that in an upcoming post.  But there are more babies this spring.  I wish I could tell you it was a new calf, but we're still trying to get our cows bred.  They've been exposed to the bull, but so far, it hasn't "taken."  I was talking to a neighbor today who has offered us his Jersey/Holstein cross to breed our cows in the event that Nick, the bull, is sterile.

The other new babies I'm speaking of are on our back patio in a chicken-shaped planter with English Ivy growing in it.  A momma house wren picked out that spot for her home and she began bringing straw, sticks and feathers to fashion a comfy nest.  We watched her as she built her home.  I didn't want to be too nosy, but the sudden change from bringing building materials to the nest to bringing worms and bugs let us know that our little wren friend had laid eggs and hatched them!  Here she is watching us with a worm in her mouth.  She doesn't want to give away her secret home address and location.  She's got  babies to protect.

That tiny bird assembled quite a nest!  As soon as she flew off, I quickly peeked into the nest.  I think I spot four baby birds.  I didn't want to give away the secret, because Ginger, our cat, would LOVE to find the nest.  She'd quickly indulge in a four piece chicken dinner.

About a week later, I peeked in again. The baby birds are growing!  I clearly see two birds in there looking back at me!  The other two must be in the back bedroom.

My hearing is damaged, so I can't hear very well at all, but Tricia confirmed that she doesn't hear the baby birds chirping.  Perhaps the birds have muted their conversations, so as to not alert Ginger, the cat to their hidden nest.  Stay vigilant, my little wren friends!

The Blustery Day

There was a Winnie the Pooh show that had the following dialogue in it: 

Gopher:    If I was you, I'd think about skedaddlin' out of here.

Winnie the Pooh:    Why?

Gopher:    'Cause it's "Winds-day."

It was Wednesday indeed and there were wind warnings on my phone.  A stiff south breeze was blowing. The wind chimes were chiming and dead limbs were falling in the yard.  The wife and I had been praying for RAIN, but none came.  Every day the forecast teases us with minute chances of the wet stuff.  We look to the horizon for darkened clouds, but none comes.

The grass continues to dry up.  The cows are looking for green grass.  You know, the stuff that's supposed to be greener on the other side of the fence.  I have been moving them into the yard to eat, and they are mowing it down fast.  The rain didn't come, but winds did.  I was walking in the yard, picking up fallen limbs.  I use the limbs for barbecuing.  The live oak and pecan branches make great coals on which to barbeque.

While picking up sticks, I stumbled across this dude:

In a foul (or fowl) mood

Apparently, the high winds blew that poor little bird and his brother, or sister, out of the nest.  Here is it's sibling:

They were both squawking and carrying on like you would expect if you fell out of the nest.  If you look closely at the wing tips, they're blue.  The color of the wings mixed with the shape of the angry little beak, clued me in that these were immature blue jays.  Blue jays are a vicious, yet beautiful bird.  They swoop down on you in the yard.  Some birds sing nice songs.  Not these, the squawk angrily.

Speaking of that sound, I looked directly up above me and I could spot the momma bird on the limb of the live oak.  Can you see her?  I can't speak "blue jay,"  but she was not happy.  I'd be upset, too.  What was going to happen to them?  In a happily-ever-after type movie, the mama bird swoops down, lifts the two babies on her back and they fly back up to the nest where they are tethered to the nest lest they fall.

But their odds to survive is about as strong as our chances of precipitation lately.  Ginger, the cat, is always on patrol.  If she finds these young paratroopers, well, their time on earth is done.  It's a tragic story, and yet, that is how life plays out in the animal kingdom in the aftermath of a blustery day.  The strongest survive.  

Making a Birdhouse Gourd Into Something Other than a Birdhouse

At a seed swap years ago, someone gave me some birdhouse gourd seeds.  It was just a few of them.  I thought it would be fun, so I planted them.  They vined like kudzu, taking over the back portion of the garden, the cucumber trellis and then threatened to cover the cows, chickens, and goats.  What a prolific plant!

They produced many birdhouse gourds.  I dried them, sanded them, drilled a hold in the side and cut dowels to be used as a perch for the feathered occupants.  Then a hole was cut in the neck and a leather strap was fastened to it.  We hung the birdhouses in the pecan tree.  They looked so welcoming and inviting.  And they were.  But not to birds.  Wasps found that they provided protection from the weather and moved in.  Before we knew it, all of the wasps hung NO VACANCY signs.  They were full.

Birdhouse gourds produce a bajillion seeds and they come up volunteer every year.  Last year we had yet another bumper crop of wasp houses... errr birdhouses.  I vowed never again.  Tricia decided she'd make some colorful ornaments to hang from the tree.  We just wouldn't drill a hole in them this time!  Here's some of the gourds, sanded and ready for painting.

The industrious lady of the manor fashioned a mechanism with bungee cords and temporary electric fence posts to hang the gourds for painting.

The first three were painted a glossy cobalt blue.

I looked over and she had an assembly line of gourd processing underway.

Some were green...

Some were happy yellow...

The wasps (and birds) will have to seek out a realtor for their home searches.  These will be unoccupied decorations only!

The Berry Best

It is peak berry time around here.  The are producing and require picking every single day.  We are in a race against our adversaries - Mockingbirds, Blue Jays, and Cardinals.  They all like picking berries, too.  I don't know what it is about this year, but there are tons of birds!  We noticed them loudly singing all spring in the backyard.  At first we thought it was nice, now we know they were calling their friends to partake of the blueberries.  Their friends arrived and they told their family members.   

Now, I don't mind sharing, but they are taking more than their fair share.  Not nice.  Next year I will buy nets to put over the bushes.  One year I hung rubber snakes from the branches.  I'll look for some of those too.  For now, we will continue picking.  We still come away with some nice blueberries.  They are at all different stages of ripeness.  We still have gallons of blueberries frozen from last year, so my wife has encouraged me (and I've obliged) to eat plenty while I am picking each afternoon.

Some are hard and green, but each day they ripen.  Others are blue, plump, and sweet as candy.

Some years they are smaller, harder, and more tart.  My theory is that all the rain we have had has resulted in more H2O uptake, making the berries plumper and juicier.

On normal years, we pick between a pint and a quart of berries each day.  This year, not near that much, although the birds may be getting that much, doggonit!

When we are done with the blueberries, we mosey over to the thornless blackberry bushes.  We have two of them and they produce well.

These are not ripe yet.  They turn black when they are ripe.  Hence, the name blackberries...

They ripen quickly, turning from red to burgundy to black in merely a day or two.

The size is bigger than that of the dewberries that grow in the wild.  Russ got some cuttings off of these canes and will try to propagate some of these on his own to get more coming.

These are good to snack on.  Sweet.  Juicy.  They are also delicious to put on top of homemade ice cream!

Time to head to bed.  I'm berry tired.

It's a Winter Wonderland!

It was 16 degrees this morning!  Goodness gracious.  It was nice to have you join me yesterday morning.  If you're not otherwise occupied, come along today as well.  We'll go exploring and sightseeing.  It's like a whole new world out there.  As we walk through the garden path to the barn, Ol' Rosie is waiting on us. She wants some hay.  The round bale in the hay ring is frozen solid.  I'm glad I put the tarp on the two round bales I have remaining.  We'll roll another out this weekend.  Oh, check out the icicles hanging from the barn roof!

I'll climb up into the hayloft and toss three bales down to you.  By my count, we have 33 bales left.  I estimate we'll make it until the spring grass starts coming in with that.  I will, however, have to get another 8 round bales of hay from my hay provider.  To me, hay reminds me of the "Ant and the Grasshopper" fable.  During the summer, it is blazing hot.  There are other things to be doing than gathering hay and loading it up into the loft.  Besides, there's plenty of grass for the animals to eat.  Why not kick back, stay cool, and enjoy yourself and leave the hard work for later?

Well, because winter months are coming.  In a few months, there will be no grass.  The weather will be frigid and nasty, and the animals will be hungry.  The cows and goats are hoping that you were an "Ant" and not a "grasshopper" back in the summer.  Fortunately, we were ants.  Your welcome, cows & goats.

The icicles hanging precariously from the hen house are quite a sight to see.  They sparkle in the morning sun.  They seem sharp as a ten penny nail.  

I call this guy the "Regal Rooster."  He was given to us by a friend who purchased a few hens from Tractor Supply.  These "hens" were to provide their family eggs in town.  The "hens" grew and matured.  However, this one "hen" began to crow.  That is a big no-no in town, and thus, we inherited a fine rooster.  This is not a hen identifying as a rooster.  She is not gender confused.  This is a bona-fide rooster.  A man.  The cock of the walk.  In fact, he has challenged one of our other existing roosters for dominance and the pecking order has now changed.  This is the new king.  It's good to be the king.  He struts around and exudes his superiority over the others.  He proudly poses in front of the woodpile in the snow.  I think he knows that I will let you all know that he a a bad dude.  I should probably let him know to enjoy it while it lasts.  As is always the case, there is always someone out there somewhere bigger and badder.  

Belle is mighty camouflaged in the snow.  She runs and slides and has the best time!  The cold doesn't bother her in the least bit.  She was born for this.  Her coat is thick and furry.  She chases the many birds that come to eat the hen scratch that we toss to the chickens.  Belle is a good dog.  We think she is coming into her own now and understands that the chickens, the cows, and the goats are her charge.  They are for her to guard and take care of.  She is starting to take that responsibility seriously (whereas she once ATE the chickens.)

Speaking of birds, here is a fat robin sitting on the fence.  Can you see him?  Randy Travis sang a song called "Deeper than the Holler."  A verse in there says, "... Honest as a robin on a springtime windowsill, and longer than the song of a whippoorwill."  I like that song.  I can't say I've ever given much thought, though, about whether a robin is honest or deceitful.  This robin is on an extension of fence I put up so our nosy goats don't eat the vegetables in the garden.  It's not springtime, Mr. Robin, but it'll be here before you know it!

When I came back inside Tricia said, "Come look out the kitchen window!"  There was a male Cardinal (red bird) and his wife in the shrubs.  Look below.  I know you can see the male.  His brilliant red color contrasts strongly against the white snow.  The female is harder to see.  Can you find her?  God's infinite wisdom designed her that way.  The male is intended to be flashy, showy, a distraction.  While the female is camouflaged so that she can sit on the nest, hidden and raise her babies in obscurity and safety.  These two are no doubt scoping out home locations for the nest they'll be building this spring.  They are optimistic that mortgage rates are at all time lows and there are incentives for first-time home buyers.  Their McMansion awaits... 

While there is great hope and expectation with some, the day brings great sadness and despair.  A gecko that has made his home outside our side door, eating mosquitoes that fly to the window has succumbed to the frigid temperatures.  He has assumed room temperature.  Unfortunately, the room is 16 degrees.  Not a good temp for a cold-blooded creature.

Let's leave on a good note, why don't we.  I walked out to check the mail and as I walk back, Old Glory still flies.  There is a stiff north wind, and it is cold and gloomy, but she flies on.

God Bless the USA!  Thanks for joining me again.  There's always something interesting to see.  Nice to share it with you.