Adieu, Doc
It is with some sadness that I report the loss of Doc, our
born-a-Buff-but-became-a-Rhodie (that's Doc up there). Late
in April, Doc died suddenly of an unknown illness. My good
friend Carolyn suggested a necroscopy to discover the cause, but she
has a farm and that is the sort of thing a farmer would do.
By the time I had the kids to bed and things about the house
settled down (Rebecca was out of town), Doc was stiff and cold and I
was tired, so I put the poor girl in a hole and said good night.
By way of consolation Mark Straw, husband of above-mentioned Carolyn,
noted, "Chickens, like sheep, are born looking for a place to die."
The limits of freedom
It should come as no surprise that following several excursions outside
the coop, the girls
just never did figure our that there were parts of the yard to which
they were not to be given access. Chickens are not
exactly
that considering of creatures, and before long, they were ranging far
and wide across the yard. This was unwelcome, as we had hopes
of
still using the yard for purposes that might not be condusive to having
chicken poop all over the place. The time had come to put
measures in place to keep the girls in their place. The
measure:
a fence.
The
Fence
Built over a weekend of almost entirely new materials, the fence is
possibly not the eyesore that some quarters may have feared it would
be, but it is also not as successful in restratining poultry
wanderlust. It stands merely 3 feet high, and encloses the
garden
entirely, which on a good day restricts the girls range of motion to a
generous area. They get outside when we're home, which means
weekends and evenings. Thus far we've only had one hawk come
to
take a look, but she didn't opt to snatch a chicken dinner.
Cassie entertains thoughts of freedom.
The fence is not, as noted, as much of a deterrent as could be hoped
for. The girls get out on occasion, and when they do, they
get
hustled back in without ceremony. They have only once ranged
to
the front of the yard, where they were fortunate no dog-walkers came
by. Nonetheless, on most days, they don't see much need to
venture far, and the fence serves them well.
EGGS!
Noah,
Amina, Jon and Cassie celebrate
the first egg.
Our Girls delivered their first egg on Sunday, December 9. I
believe it was Cassie's doing, and am giving her all the credit.
Whoever it was managed to get it right in the nesting box,
which I'm pretty excited about. Hopefully the others will
learn from the fine example she set.
One of the Rhodies contemplating the
improved feed.
As a reward, the entire flock got "furloughed" for the afternoon, being
allowed to wander throughout the garden. Because of Rebecca's
(reasonable) concern over chicken poop being distributed in the lawn
area of the yard, the flock needed to be restricted to the area "over
the ditch." To ensure that the inmates did not wander, Amina
served as warden over them, herding them about the dry dead garden beds
on an unseasonably warm December afternoon.
The girls enjoy a small taste of
freedom.
Sadly, Cassie took a peck at her, which was not welcome, but Amina is
learning about being the top chicken in the henhouse.
Amina and Cassie, pre-pecking.
Sun is in the middle in the background.
The star of the show, once again, this
time with Noah.