Too Many Roosters

The chicks we incubated back on March 18th have resided in the chicken tractor in the backyard.  Oh, how they've grown.  There are 6 hens and 6 roosters.  The roosters' courtship of the hens is loud and raucous.  There is no peace in the backyard.  Time for the birds to be introduced to the flock running free in the pasture.  One problem is that we have two too many roosters for the amount of hens.  Too many roosters means lots of fights and violence.

What will we do with the two roosters?  Sometimes to avoid violence, you must act with violence.  We will put those two roosters in the freezer.  I cut the arteries of the two and let them both bleed out in a bucket.

The roosters' hearts beat out all the blood.  Once dead, we wait for our water to get hot enough.

In my crawfish boiling pot, I'm looking for scalding water that's 145 degrees.  Any cooler and the feathers won't come off in the plucker.  Any warmer and you'll cook the birds.

Dish soap is added to the water once it's scalding and the bird is dunked in the water for about two minutes.  A tail feather and wing feather is pulled to test.  Once they pull out with ease, the bird is ready for the plucker.

The plucker's turned on and the bird is dropped in while we spray it.  The rubber fingers de-feather the bird.

What a nice job our plucker does?

The roosters are de-headed, feet cut off and gutted.

Then we do the 8 piece cut up that we normally do, saving the neck and back for broth making.

We clean up the liver, hearts and gizzards...

And bag them up for eating.  These will make tasty gumbos and soups this winter.

We were all done and had everything cleaned by 10 AM.  The next morning we both remarked how nice and quiet and peaceful it was in the backyard!

A Time to Kill

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  Ecclesiastes 3:1-3 KJV

Last year we let a few broody hens sit on some eggs and they ended up hatching out some chickens.  After they got big enough where we (thought we) could tell the pullets from the cockerels, we butchered the cockerels and put the hens out on the pasture with the others.  There was a problem with this plan.  We misjudged.  Two of the birds we thought were pullets were actually cockerels.  

This miscalculation was brought to our attention rather quickly.  With four other roosters on the flock, the addition of two more caused quite a ruckus.  A pecking order had to be worked out.  It's a vicious undertaking, to be sure, with fights and blood and intimidation.  Sometimes the roosters will kill one another.  Other times the victor rules and the defeated skulks around on the margins, trying to get food where he can and trying to keep from getting beat up by the bigger, more dominant roosters.

What will also happen is, well, we'll call it the "birds and the bees."  Roosters will seek out and breed hens in the flock.  The poor hens fall prey to this.  Lots of squawking.  Lots of feathers flying.  Two of them will be breeding and the rival rooster will appear and attack the romancing rooster in the middle of mating.  Shrill cries ring out across the barnyard.  Frightened, disheveled hens scurry off to find peace.

Tricia finally looked at me and said, "Kyle, it's time we help the hens.  Let's butcher those two white roosters that keep everything stirred up."  I agreed.  Saturday afternoon was the appointed time.  We walked to the barnyard and caught the raucous, romancing roosters.  We each carried a rooster to the chicken tractor from the back to the yard.  Tricia called it the "long walk."  The roosters did not know what was in store.  (Warning for the squeamish)

We tied them from twine in a tree and slit their throats, holding them over a bucket to catch the blood.  In a short time, their hearts pumped out the blood.

With one final flop of the wings, the roosters kicked the bucket, literally and figuratively.  Time of death: 1:52 pm.

We set the two formerly amorous birds aside while we waited for the water temperature in the scalder to reach 145 degrees.

Dishwashing liquid was added to the water and when it was 145 degrees (scalding), I began to dunk the birds beneath the water for about 2 minutes.  Up, down, up, down.  When you can pull on a long wing feather and a tail feather and they pull out easily, your bird is ready for plucking.  It's important that you monitor the temperature (hence the thermometer).  If the water is cooler than 145, the feathers won't come off in the plucker.  If the water is hotter than 145, you'll cook the birds.  We learned early on the hard way when we first started doing this years ago.

We toss one of our feathered friends in the plucker and spray with water as we turn on the plucker and the bird spins.  Soon, all of the feathers are gone.  It's an efficient process, much easier by hand, except it's a lot of mess and a lot of equipment to get out for only two birds.

Here is one of the roosters, devoid of feathers.  Minus all the feathers, the roosters are kind of skinny.  No where near the size of the Cornish Cross meat birds that we raise each spring for butcher.

The cavities are then opened and the birds are eviscerated.

Here is one of the roosters...  We're going to use the feet this year for the first time to make broth.

And here is the other.

Gizzards, livers, and hearts are lined up waiting for cleaning and packing up for freezing.

We cut up the roosters into pieces and put in bags for freezing.

With cold weather coming this week, Tricia is planning on making a big chicken and sausage gumbo.  Nothing like a good gumbo to warm you up on a very cold day.  One final note before I sign off tonight:  After these two roosters are now off the flock, you'd be surprised at how calm things are out at the barn.  There is no more shrieking, fighting, or violent breeding.  No more fearful hens running for their lives.  There is peace in the valley.

Seeking Unity in the Barnyard

Earlier this summer we had some hens get broody.  We still have some hens that are broody.  Anyway, we let the hens set on a few eggs and the mama hens hatched out some little biddies.  We put the mamas and the babies in the chicken tractor so they would be safe from predators.  After a little bit, we moved the hens back into general population.  The biddies continued to grow.  Of the six, we have two cockrels and four pullets.  Perfect.  That will replace some hens lost to predation.  Minks, specifically, but I don't like to even mention that wicked animal by name!

The time finally came to bring the six birds and slowly incorporate them with the flock.  It's a tricky situation.  We clipped their wings so they won't fly over the perimeter fence and we brought them to the barn.  The plan goes like this:  We're going to leave them in the dog kennel for a couple of days to get them used to their new surroundings, but mostly to allow the other birds to get used to the "newcomers."

Then, we'll let them out.  The other birds pick on them a little bit and don't share their feed, so we have to be intentional about caring for the new birds.  You'll notice they are mixed breed since they were hatched out.  The white ones are Aracaunas and the red ones are a mix of Rhode Island Red and Golden Comet.  Here are the newbies next to their kennel.  They are nervous and scoping everything out.  It's a brave new world.

They stick close to the barn, which can be trouble.  Tricia is about to milk LuLu and if one of these birds got under LuLu's feet, well, it would be disastrous for the bird.  LuLu?  She wouldn't even notice.  It's still 90 degrees + in late September, so thank the Good Lord for the fans in the barn.  They keep us (and LuLu) cool and also blow the mosquitoes away.

Each night, the new birds instinctually roost atop the kennel.  We put them inside and lock the door so the minks don't get them.  Each morning they are freed.  They are getting braver and braver, extending their foraging farther away from the barn.

They instinctually scratch through the cow poop, looking for grain and other treasures.  The pullets have not started laying eggs yet, but we figure that should be coming in another month.

All is relatively peaceful and calm.  But it is the calm before the storm.  A battle is brewing.  Here is the king.  The cock of the walk.  The big kahuna.  He rules the barnyard.  A war broke out between he and the Barred Rock rooster and the barred rock lost.  He runs around scared, keeping his distance.  The Big Chief even killed the prior King Rooster, a beautiful Rhode Island Red.  They are vicious and brutal, but such is life.  It's survival of the fittest and the whole flock respects the process.

Soon.  When the young cockrels 'feel their oats' and challenge the king, there will be war in the barnyard.  I imagine it to be a showdown like in the movie Tombstone, where Kurt Russell played Wyatt Earp and said, "You tell 'em I'm comin'! And Hell's comin' with me, you hear? Hell's comin' with me!"  I can almost hear one of the roosters yelling that.  But for now, there's peace in the valley.

Oh, How the Tables Have Turned

 

The young barred rock rooster you see above has a story.  He was one of the two roosters that we hatched out that we didn't butcher.  Our plan was to save him and another Golden Comet rooster to introduce to the flock to ensure all of our eggs were fertilized so that we can once again hatch some out this year.  

This fellow and his rival (the Golden Comet) lived in the chicken tractor along with 23 hens.  It was not a place of peaceful abode.  The two roosters fought constantly.  I take that back.  There was not a lot of fighting going on.  Primarily, it was the mean Barred Rock Rooster chasing, taunting, bullying, and terrorizing the Golden Comet.

They made such a racket in the tractor.  The poor Golden Comet could hardly eat without being chased around in the confined area.  One day, a day that couldn't have come soon enough for the Golden Comet, we set the 2 roosters and the hens free in the pasture.  FREEDOM!  It was a weird day.  The two younger roosters were met face to face with the dominant rooster out in the existing flock.  He was a Rhode Island Red.  An older bird, hardened by the cruel vagaries of life in the barnyard.

A new pecking order had to be established.  Only one way to do that.  The birds fight it out.  The results of the fights lead to a (new perhaps) dominant rooster and then the #2 and #3 cocks on the walk.  It was eventful.  Lots of squawking.  Lots of blood.  The combs of the roosters were all scarred.  Battle wounds were plenty.  In a couple days, the new pecking order was established.

Believe it or not, the Barred Rock Rooster (the one in the photo above) won the heavy-weight title, beating out his previous rival AND the elder statesman of the barnyard, the old, wise Rhode Island Red.  The Barred Rock was feeling his oats, strutting around the barnyard and crowing to announce his lordship over all of the fowl.  The other roosters cowered in his presence, while he romanced any hen of his choosing.

That went on for about a month.  And then...  Then a change took place that we did not witness, but we saw the results of.  Yesterday we noticed the Barred Rock full of dried blood on his black and white plumage.  But more than that, we saw fear in his posture - a lack of confidence.  The king had been brought low.  He hid in the corner at the sight of either of the two other roosters.  When it came to roosting time, he waited until the other two roosters chose their positions to roost.  Then he humbly came to roost and was promptly chased off.

Here's the surprising part.  The new king of the barnyard is...  you guessed it.  The Golden Comet.  The bird that the Barred Rock bullied for so long.  Now, the tables have turned.  The Golden Comet stored all that abuse up over time.  At last, it was time for retribution.  He stood up and fought like Tommy fighting for Becky against the Gatlin boys in Kenny Rogers' song "Coward of the County."  And the coward is now the cock of the walk.  And the former king now cowers cowardly in the corner.  

Oh, how the mighty have fallen!  It's a great lesson in humility for all of us.

Wrapping Up a Garden/Chicken Project

We butchered all the roosters over a month ago.  We've been eating them and the taste is superb.  They are not as big as the Cornish Cross meat birds, but they taste better, we think.  The downside is that the Cornish Cross birds are ready for slaughter in only 8 weeks, while the birds we hatch from our own eggs take about 6 months to mature. 

Now that all the roosters but two are in the freezer, mostly hens remain in the chicken tractor.  I push them to new grass everyday and bring food and water.  I'm ready to make things easier.  It is time to incorporate this flock into the free-ranging flock out in the pasture.  It's always tricky trying to get the flocks to assimilate.  Birds of a feather, do indeed, flock together.  Before doing so, I'll trim the pullet's wings.

One project must be completed, first, though.  From past experience, I learned that young pullets can squeeze through the 4x4 mesh of the fencing that surrounds the garden.  Chickens get into the garden, scratch up seeds I have planted and eat the plants.  Worse than that, those that can't get in the garden, stick their heads through the fence and scratch away all the wood chip mulch, exposing the ground.  The exposed soil soon sprouts weeds that spread across the garden.  Not good!  

So I embarked on a labor intensive project.   I cut a 1 foot strip of 2x4 welded wire fence and wired it over the 4x4 fencing.  This will, I hope, bar entry into the garden of any pullets.  No way they can get through there.

Then I backfill with wood chip mulch to cover over and choke out any weeds that might try to grow from the previously exposed soil.  I pushed it right up against the fence and packed it in good.  Once it settles, I'll add even more.

I got mostly all of the garden fence complete.  I'm lacking a 6 foot portion on the east side and a 15 foot section against the south side.  I wanted to finish, but it got dark on me.

Once i have that finished, I'll release the chickens that are currently in the chicken tractor, into the pasture to roam - just not to roam in our garden.  Before I do that, I'll clip their wings so that they can't fly out.  Letting them loose on the pasture will save roughly 20 minutes a day in feeding, watering and pushing the tractor.  Always looking to make things more efficient.  We'll see if this time-consuming project pays dividends.

Roosters to the Freezer

Saturday morning we woke to the crowing of roosters near our bedroom window.  It has become a frequent and regular occurrence.  With a number of roosters occupying a limited space with many more hens, it's been quite a commotion.  That ends today.  Friday evening I set up all of the stations that we use for butchering: The Killing Cones, The Scalding Cauldron, The Plucking Machine, The Evisceration Station, and the Chill Zone.

Let's get this party started.  I turned on the fire to the crawfish pot and watched it, monitoring for the exact moment when it hit 145 degrees Fahrenheit.  Then I aim to keep it there.  Too hot and you'll cook 'em.  Too cool and the feathers won't come off.  I went and picked out the two roosters we wanted to keep.  They made the cut.  The others will make their places of abode in our deep freeze.  We put the first four roosters in the cones.

Head down, with buckets underneath to catch the blood.  Usually we bury the blood in the garden, but this time, my neighbor wanted it to make catfish bait with.  We slit the chickens' necks and allow their heart to pump out all the blood.  When bled out, they die.  The cones hole them tight.

Time for scalding.  We add some dishwashing liquid to the pot.  This allows the water to get beneath the feathers during the scald.  I dunk them deep into the water for about a minute.  To test, I pull a big wing feather and tailfeather out.  When they both come out with ease, they are ready for plucking.

To pluck, we simply toss the bird in the barrel, turn on the plucker and spray the spinning bird with water.  The feathers start to fly.  Pretty soon, there are no more feathers left on the chicken.

The homemade plucker that me and two friends put together works beautifully.  It literally takes of 99% of the feathers.  During quality control, we may pull a feather or two off, but overall, this machine saves us a LOT of time and effort.  You can see the results here:

Tricia is the Corporate Director of Evisceration Administration.  Armed with a sharp knife and the knowledge of how to use it, she guts the bird efficiently.  Keeping that in mind, I mind my Ps & Qs around her.

Once the birds are gutted, they are washed up and then put in a tub of cold water to continue cooling down.  After we're done, we dump out the warm water and refill with cool water.  We bring the tub inside and pack with ice.  The birds will stay on ice for 24 hours while the birds go through rigor mortis.  Then we cut them up and bag them.  Since (most) of these are small roosters, we don't know how tender they'll be to eat after cooking on the BBQ pit.  Most of these will be used this winter in Homemade chicken soup and Gumbo.  Both cooked low and slow, allowing the meat to become tender.

EPILOGUE:    In the "you live and you learn category," I'll share something with you.  To determine who lived and who died, we selected the two roosters we wanted to keep.  The rest of them would be butchered.  It was hard to count exactly how many roosters with them all moving around.  I thought I counted 8 in total.

As we kept filling the cones, I realized we had more than that.  At the end, we had butchered 16 birds.  I wanted to make sure I had them all.  On the last pass, I gathered 3 remaining birds.  The had a big comb, long tailfeathers, and the beginning of a spur on the side of their leg.  3 more roosters, I thought.  Got to get those, too.  Since they are young, they're a little hard to tell.

Once we butchered those, Tricia was gutting.  She said, "What is all this yellow stuff?"  I walked over to inspect.  It was egg.  Oh no!  I had mistakenly killed 3 hens!!

You can see all the eggs at different stages lined up within her.

This is a big mistake on my part.  This hen (and the two others I mistakenly killed) would have laid 300 eggs per year.  That mistake cost me almost 1,000 eggs a year.  I should have waited and watched and allowed the ones I wasn't 100% sure of to grow until I was sure of their sex.  This was a teachable moment for me, for sure.  

On the bright side, we added 16 chickens to the freezer and we'll enjoy the fresh, hormone-free, antibiotic free birds in delicious home-cooked meals this winter.  

The Cock's Clock is Ticking

The drama in the chicken tractor is impossible to ignore.  The crowing (loudly) commences at first light.  Then, the romance starts.  The pullets outnumber the cockerels, but they are mighty amorous.  The squawking and carrying on leads to fights between roosters for their 'harem."  Feathers fly.  Tempers flare.  The pullets seem stressed.  It's past time to do something.

I'll talk about that in a minute.  Each day we're picking up three to five eggs from the pullets.  I tried to put a nesting box in the chicken tractor, but they scratch all the hay out of it and lay on the ground.  It's time to move the hens to the pasture.  The eggs the pullets are laying are small.  It takes two pullet eggs to equal one regular egg.

I was talking to my wife about thinning out the herd (or flock in this situation).  You need 1 rooster to service 10 hens.  We have about 30 pullets and to the best of my ciphering, I think we have 8 roosters.  We plan to pick out three of the best looking roosters for keeping.  We'll introduce them to the flock in the pasture along with the biggest of the hens.  The five roosters that didn't make the cut will be butchered this weekend and we'll put them in the freezer for the upcoming gumbo weather this winter.  You can see some of the roosters in this photo whose days are numbered.  Who am I kidding?  All our days are numbered.

Once the excess roosters are processed, things will be more serene on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  There will be peace in the valley.

There will be peace in the valley for me some day

There will be peace in the valley for me, oh, Lord, I pray

There'll be no sadness, no sorrow, no trouble I see

There will be peace in the valley for me

Spring Forward

Before going to bed last night, we set the clocks ahead one hour.  I don't like this change simply to the fact that you lose an hour of sleep.  I like my sleep!  Thirty something years ago, we lived in Houston and were attending Second Baptist Church.  Our pastor would tell us not to set our clocks ahead, but to come to church on Sunday Morning at the "old" time.  Then, when services were over, we'd all move our clocks forward together.  That saved that hour of lost sleep for one more day.

I saw this cartoon and thought it was appropriate.

The roosters, as best as I could tell were still crowing at whatever time they wanted to!

After doing the chores this morning, I walked around and checked out the garden.  I had to rush around on Saturday afternoon and cover all of the tomatoes and potatoes up with tarps and pots turned upside down to protect them from frost as we were set to receive below freezing temps - around 29 according to the Hour by Hour forecast.  I did see a pretty good frost on the ground this morning.  

When I uncovered everything, a few of the tomato plants looked like they had slight damage, but nothing major.  I think they'll do alright.  The other protective measure I took was prior to covering, I watered everything in real good.  The water in the ground holds heat and requires more energy to freeze.  Apparently, the protective measures worked!  We'll see for sure in a few days.

Now that colder temps are out of the way, I'll begin planting the spring garden in earnest.  I plant to plant corn, snap beans, cucumbers and squash this week.

Where did the Roosters go?

This weekend we moved the 3 week old meat birds from the garage to the small chicken tractor on the pasture.  In order to free up that chicken tractor, we had to move the Barred Rock pullets into the tractor where the 9 roosters were.  So where did the roosters go?  Well,  they went two different places.

First, I climbed into the tractor and caught the two, biggest, prettiest roosters of the nine and handed them to Benjamin and he released them to roam free on the pasture.  Why two?  Polygamy has been frowned upon in the United States and rightfully so!  In the chicken world, however, roosters have multiple "wives."  In fact, the proportion that you want to have is 1 rooster for every 10 hens. That will just about assure you that your eggs will be fertilized.  We hatch out a batch of chicks from our fertilized eggs each year to replenish our flock, so fertilization is important so we try to keep the 1:10 ratio out in the pasture of roosters to hens.

Roosters in the big tractor

The remaining seven roosters were loaded into a pet kennel on the back of a garden wagon and hauled out of the pasture.  These roosters will be moved into our freezer once we butcher them and be eaten.  It is not a particularly fun event, but these were never pets - they are farm animals.  We never name anything that we're going to eat.

Farewell roosters

I didn't get out the cones that I usually use to hold the roosters when they bleed out. Butchering only seven birds doesn't really warrant it.  We simply hung them by a rope from the pear tree and placed a bucket underneath them to catch the blood.

Using a sharp knife, we cut the jugular vein and let the rooster's heart pump out all the blood.  It doesn't take long at all.  The dead bird is untied and another is put in his place.

I got the crawfish boiling pot out, lit the propane burner and brought the water to scalding temperature of 145 Fahrenheit.  Once the birds were dead, we grabbed them by the feet and dunked them in the scalding water over and over.  When the big wing feathers can be pulled out easily, they are ready to be plucked.

Since we only had seven to butcher, I didn't use the Whiz Bang Chicken Plucker that we normally use to pluck the feathers off the birds.  We just pulled the feathers out by hand.  Benjamin provided quality control, picking the feathers out so that none remained, leaving a clean bird.  Tricia started eviscerating and I joined her once the birds were all scalded and plucked.

We first pull the heads off and cut off the feet. Sometimes we'll boil the feet and make a broth, but this time we saved all the feet to give to a friend.  

Of course all the guts and feathers get buried in the garden to add nutrients to the garden soil.  It's sort of a twist on the old story about the Indians teaching the pilgrims to bury a fish next to the corn for fertility.  We do the same with chickens.

We cleaned the gizzards, and saved the hearts and livers in the container on the right in the photo below, and in no time at all we had 7 roosters gutted and ready to go into the freezer.

We first cut them up and bagged them in gallon sized freezer bags and put them in an ice chest to let them age overnight.

The next morning we put them in the freezer.  Since they are roosters that are almost seven months old, the won't be as tender as other birds, but we'll use them to make soups, gumbos, fricassee, and other dishes that require long cooking times to make them tender.  There isn't near as much meat on these guys as the Cornish Cross meat birds, but that's okay.  These roosters will still provide some good meals that the family will enjoy.

That's where the roosters went.