Lola and Zelda update

Lola and Zelda have been living happily on our sun porch in a chick condo. Lola has filled out into a beautiful red almost Frizzle chick. Zelda at this time is molting (shedding old feathers and growing new ones) and happily laying an egg a day. Every now and then Lola pops out a tiny egg also. Those two crazy girls are very happy, warm and tame living there. When the weather permits, they get to go outside for play time to stretch their little legs.
Little Lola is still the smart and careful one. When the other chickens come over to investigate them, she leads Zelda thru the picket fence where no one can pick on them. Whenever I’m outside those two follow me every where, they know that they can just hide behind me if one of the other hens or roosters come around. Since they have not been out in the barn for 3 months the other birds see them as outsiders, they need to slowly re-establish a "pecking order". While Lola and Zelda are out playing, I can call to them and they come running to me doing that funny little chicken trot. In the evening after a day of playing outside, I call out to them, scoop the girls up and back to their condo they go.
Lola and Zelda's condo has a nesting box and lots of room to roam around. We never close their condo door and those good girls rarely venture out. They have a play area but spend most of their time inside in their condo. In the mornings if I'm late to tell them "good morning" they will start calling out, impatiently waiting for their breakfast. Every now and then they have a visitor, Maddie or Herman. Maddie likes to climb into their condo for a visit and Herman will sit next to it. Lola and Zelda where raised around the cats so they are just part of the family to Maddie and Herman.
We never thought these little special girls would become such a big part of our life and routine. They will always need extra care, warmth, love and protection. Their special care is a small price to pay for all the joy they bring to our household.

I said dead not ten

Usually all my stupid stories usually involve the birds. But this time it's about my loving 19 year dog Bailey and my cat Tom Tom who was a hit and run victim. Don't bail out; this is not a sob story.
I register all the cats and dogs with Petsmarts website for gift cards and coupons. One day I received two Petsmart birthday gift cards in the mail. The one gift card was for Tom Tom my tailless cat. He had a tail but lost it in a squirrel fight. Or I should say it fell off in the vet's office after the fight. He was the coolest cat on the planet. The other Petsmart birthday gift card is for our lab mix Bailey who just turned 19 on 02/07/10. Bailey is a "Buck midnight special"; anyone from Athens NY will know what that is. Our friend Ding had a dog called Buck, you can figure out the rest. Bailey is mostly deaf, a little crazy and missing his tail also. He is a wonderful dog.
I take my two coupons and off I go to Petsmart for food and supplies. At the register there is a young 6 foot tall girl waiting on customers. I've seen her working here before and I know she is not the brightest puppy in the litter. We start chatting and along came the manager who is about 5'2'' and high on life. He starts rambling about how happy he is that I'm shopping at Petsmart and chose his store. Meanwhile I hand the coupons to the young lady working the register. She is very sweet but a totally blank look comes over her face. She then turns to Mr. Happy Manager to ask how to use the special Birthday coupons. Mr. Happy bounces over looks at the coupons and tells her to process them like any other coupon. He then proceeds to congratulate me on the birthday of my cat Tom Tom.
I stop for a second and think. Then I slowly say "well as a matter of fact, the cat is dead". The register girl gives me a sympathetic look; I tell her that it's okay. Mr. Happy pants manager bounces off to another register. Then I notice in line behind me there is a co-worker who tells me how sorry he is about my loss. I didn't notice that the Manager had bounced back to the register that I was at. He proceeds to ask me "How old is your cat?" I'm a little puzzled at this and respond with "He's Dead". With a big smile on his face Mr. Manager's response is "Oh that’s great!" With that the young 6 foot tall girl operating the register leans over to the 5' 2" manager and yells "Dead, She said Dead, Dead, the cat is Dead".
Now my co-worker is giggling behind me, I'm trying to suppress my smile. Mr. Happy pants manager said "Oh I thought she said ten". This starts up the register girl again yelling "NO she said Dead, not ten, Dead, it's Dead". By this point I'm laughing, trying to tell him its okay, the girl is yelling dead at him, he runs away, disappearing into the isles of Petsmart.

The Goslings are growing!

I can't believe how much they have grown over night. They are very friendly and comical trying to nibble on everything.

Barn Mayhem

When we had extremely frigid cold days I thought it would be nice to open up the barn for the birds to move around. Mayhem ensued. For some reason the Muscovy ducks head straight over to an old metal cabinet painted white. I'm sure this old thing was painted 50 or 75 years ago. The paint is flaking off like crazy where one section was exposed to water. According to my ducks, this paint is the tastiest treat on the planet. Every time I turn around, I catch them licking, nibbling EATING the paint off the cabinet and the floor. Of course I shooed them away a few 5 or 6 times.
Then I see Cecil my male turkey attempting to come down the barn stairs. He was only a few steps up but this was obviously something a turkey was not designed to do. That's when I notice Clover his hen is missing. Okay this puts me into a panic, my only breeding female turkey. Pumpkin licked the other one to death last September. I'm counting, relying on Clover to produce fertile eggs in spring.
Clover has gone all the way upstairs in the barn, which is filled with crap that a turkey could get tangled in. Not to mention the stair problem. I have now spent so much time attempting to detour the ducks from their paint fetish, Clover's egg induced wanderlust has escaped me. Upstairs, chirping, Clover was happily searching for a secret spot to nest. Yes it's a little early but every girl likes to be prepared. Slowly I herd her to a safe place to make the grab. There can be no mistakes everything is riding on this bird. Luckily she is also very tame. I dove, quickly snatched her up, Clover and I are face to face, her feet dangling down to my knees, happily she chirps at me. Making sure I had a firm but gentle grip on Clover we headed down the stairs where I deposited the wayward girl outside the barn.
Slowly I turn around to assess the barn; the ducks are back licking paint. This is it, all ducks out, and I don't care. I know that ducks will eat anything but this is just stupid. I'm herding the ducks back into the animal side of the barn and I notice Clover is making another run for the stairs… Quickly I distract her from her mission and BLOCK the stairs. A large metal garbage can is installed in Cecil and Clovers living area to hopefully entice her into doing her egg thing there. The can is not working so far but the chickens love playing in it, Clover sneaks upstairs daily, the ducks are banned from the barn for ever.

We have eight Goslings

It is very hard to get a good picture under the heat lamps

Of course my faithful assistant helped me the whole time.

Once you go quack, you never go back.

Mr. Quackers is our huge black Muscovy duck. He is a sight you have to see in person so realize how impressive he is. Muscovy's are a very strong, hardy breed of duck that can fly even though they are massive with clawed feet. Mr. Quackers has five girls (hens) to keep himself "busy", which is a sight that you do not want to ever see. As if that isn't enough he has decided to follow Clover, our Bourbon Red turkey hen everywhere in his spare romance time.
Clover is a beautiful, gentle brown eyed, long legged beauty. Maybe it's the legs that got to him or the way she struts; he is driven to have her. Now here is the problem, you try to move, dissuade, relocate, and distract a big freaky duck in love. I've been mauled by a dog, faced a rabid animal (did the shots), grew up "playing" with cows that had giant horns (we lived in the country, they were my friends) handling a duck should be easy.
I'm in the barn, Mr. Quackers has clover cornered, and he's doing his love dance. Head bobbing, tail wagging, whispering sweet ducky quacks to her ankles. Now you also have to realize the whole time, in the background there are two giant male turkeys going crazy. They see Quackers as a threat to Clover and are determined to protect her. So while I'm trying to catch Mr. Q, the two stupid boy turkeys are in full regalia, feathers spread, thumping their chests and stomping their feet. Clover is just standing there blinking her big brown eyes with that "who me" look, pheromones, what pheromones?
I dive and snatch, get Quackers by the neck and one wing, sort of. Then I attempt to reposition my hands around his neck (gently) sliding both hands down to grab him by the top of his wings. Pressing them down, clamping his wings to his body I then pick him up. Now, even the boy turkeys give me what the heck are you crazy look watch me intently. I've got him for maybe one second, out comes one wing flapping free from my arms, whacking me in the face repeatedly. I get the wing; hang on and out pops the other wing. So now I'm holding him at my chest level, by the top of his wings. He is flying while I'm holding him. I'm not letting go, he's not giving up. This is my breeding drake, I'm thinking be gentle... yeah right. Some how I get the wings back down, mid air and clamp him to my chest. That's when I realize we are face to face, so close I can look thru his nostrils and see the other side of the room. Mr. Q. must have seen the determination/fear in my eyes and he relaxed. Then I was able to carry him out of the barn. I have to give Mr. Quackers credit, he at least didn't bite my nose off or take an eye out.
Mr. Q repeated the wooing of Clover for days. I repeated my duck removal process about 5 times a day for days. Oddly Mr. Quackers and I have become very close, we have now reached some form of understanding. I just point to the door; he then exits the barn gracefully. Waits until I'm out of sight and sneaks back in.

Zilla and his spa treatments

Zilla is our giant Buff Cochin rooster. He was the "free bird" sent in the first batch of egg laying chickens that I ordered. Right away he stuck out from the other peeps. He was huge yellow and fuzzy, very fuzzy. I didn't order any large yellow fuzzy chicks. Zilla grew and grew, filled out with more buttery yellow feathers then you could ever imagine and then grew some more. When he is on his tipi chicken toes, he is close to 3 feet tall. He is my special baby, spoiled and knows his name when called. If you have never seen a chicken run, you have missed out on the funniest sight you will ever see. Now add tons of fluffy feathers and make it a giant chicken, you're ready to laugh until you cry. Zilla runs to me for his treats, which he eats out of my hand, making a burr bah burring noise the whole time. He has always done this even though he takes his roostering very serious. When ever he can, my giant Zilla will sneak thru an open door and beg for treats.
Every time some one new meets Zilla, we get the "Do you wash your bird?", "Or do you groom him?" We always answer "Yes, why yes we do wash our bird". First I hop in the shower then Bruce hands me Zilla! His feathers are beautiful that's just Zilla he does not shower with me, duh.
This winter I knew we would have to take special care of his huge cocks comb and long wattles (those things hanging off his cheeks and that giant red thing on his head). They have to be rubbed down with petroleum jelly or antibiotic gel to keep them from freezing. The time came, it was very cold, and we had to slick down Zilla's parts. Once again, we are lucky, Zilla is very tame. He will almost do anything for a treat, you just call him and he comes a running. I snatch my giant fluff ball and bring him into the spa for a visit Lola and Zelda. He is always a good boy and usually never gives a struggle when you're holding him. We start rubbing him down, thoroughly. Talk about getting the stink eye, that eye said it all, Zilla could easily shred me to bits if he so desired.
While I have him, it's a good time to check him over. Chickens can easily have foot issues, it's always good to keep an eye on them or lose an eye trying. Zilla just laid there in my arms, not moving a muscle. What a good giant beast he is. I found several feathers on his feet that were causing a problem. Bruce holds Zilla while I get the pliers. Unfortunately if I do not pull out the quills of broken off feathers, they most likely will become infected. When this is done he gets an antibiotic gel rub down on his feet and olive oil on his legs. If I was only so lucky as Zilla!
When his facial and foot massage is finished we shared a few treats and off he stomped back to his girls. Up the sidewalk, shaking off his feathers, stomping his feet every other step he took.
Our poor baby moose did get a little frost bite but needless to say he does have beautiful skin just in time for spring.

My little sock puppet

Lola is our tiny, half naked bantam. She is a red Frizzle bantam who fried. That happens when a breeder, breeds two Frizzle's together, they come out fried (two curly feathered birds as apposed to one curley to one regular). She has hardly any curly feathers or feathers at all for that matter. Just quills' with half a brittle feather that will break off. Lola has exposed dry chapped skin, a long naked neck with a few tufts of a feather here and not there. She is about the size of a dried up maple leaf.
Lola spends her time like any other normal chicken doing chicken things with her best friend Zelda. Zelda is a black Frizzle bantam also but with normal curly feathering. They grew up together, they play, sleep and lay eggs together. Lola and Zelda spent many nights snuggling, tucking herself under Zelda in a small wooden box stuffed with chips. All the other Bantams and Standard chickens would roost, up high on their perches. Not Lola, she would be to cold to sit outside her box, exposed all night long. Every night I would stuff those two safely into their box, fluff the chips around them and say good night to everyone. Zelda has always stuck by Lola's side.
Eventually they decided not to use their box. I don't know why, maybe some one made fun of them? Now they sit huddled in a corner under a ladder roost where her other bantam friends Coco and Lucy perch. This broke my heart, Zelda huddling with Lola to keep her warm, never abandoning her friend.
It's cold outside, winter is here and Lola is half a naked chicken. She would go outside, hanging with her peeps, shivering in the sun on days that were sunny. On gloomy days she would have to stay in the barn trying to keep warm. Then it started to get colder in the barn, I caved, out came the heat lamp, life for Lola was much better now. She had a nice warm spot all day and night now. Don't get me wrong, she is one tough, egg laying, little scrapper. I tried to pick her up once and she did a classic Kung Fu spin, kicking both feet, flapping her little wings screaming her naked head off out. She easily won that battle. No one picks on Lola, ever.
One morning we went out to the barn and the water froze under the heat lamp. This is where Lola spent all of her time and it was still cold enough to freeze the water. I could see her feathers shaking on her as she shivered. That was it I reached what may seem a crazy point of naked chicken desperation. Lola needed a sweater to keep her warm, comfortable and alive. I went searching thru my sock draw. Found a white cotton ankle sock, cut off the toe part, made two little holes on each side for her wings and Walla! Lola had a stylish (okay not) sweater. Now I have to capture the little crazy creature and dress her! Yeah right, this should be interesting.
Bruce is enlisted in my "dress Lola with a sock" escapade. He feels sorry for her also, how could you not? I do a few laps around the pen, finally capture Lola and hang on for dear life (my dear life) with both hands. She does fit in one but with her kung fu moves, it was too tricky to hold her with only one. Quickly we whip out the scissors, make last minute alterations and dress the bird. Honestly I have to say, we did a marvelous job! I put her down; she immediately started walking backwards in an attempt to free herself from her new sweater. I tried to explain to her how other little chickens freezing in the world wished they had sweaters like hers. Luckily I had researched chicken clothing before my attempt with Lola. This reverse behavior is normal. "They" said she would adjust after a day or two with her new outfit on.
After a few minutes she seemed fine. We kept checking on her and she was not shivering, seemed nice and cozy in her snappy new outfit. I lowered the heat lamp to help bath her in a little more warmth, hoping that between the lamp and outfit, she would be warm enough. Before bed we do one last check on the birds to tuck them all in. There is Lola, perched on a block of wood, under the heat lamp, sleeping. Not a shiver to be seen. We were very relieved to see her comfortable, able to sit by herself, styling and warm. Normally she would have been under Zelda by now trying to keep warm.
Luckily we did take these measures, that night was the coldest yet this season. I think Bruce told me it 3 or 4 degree's when he woke up with a subzero wind chill. Our little Lola did just fine. She even came outside to sunbath, wearing her new sock. That darn sock kept her warm enough to go out on that brutal cold morning to catch a few rays and hang with her peeps.
Lola is doing very well, I will be designing a few new outfits for her to keep her styling. Below is our first prototype "Sock" design. Her name is Lola, she was a show girl, with no feathers in her hair and a sock cut down to there.......

Petunia and Clover nesting

Petunia has decided its time for ducklings. Petunia is a very pretty Muscovy girl with a squeaky little voice, lots of sass and determination. Last week I started collecting the largest duck eggs, leaving the smaller ones in her nesting box. Suddenly one morning there was a pile of downy fluff and more eggs in her nest. We waited a few more days then swapped out the smaller eggs with the large duck eggs while Petunia was not looking. Her nest was the softest, fluffy pillow you could ever imagine. When duck hens start going "broody" (want to hatch their eggs), they pluck out the soft down feathers on their underside to line the nest. Petunia is a pretty big and healthy girl with lots of underside, hence lots of down.
This event is so exciting for us; it is the first time we will experience ducks hatching their own baby's. As usual, every thing has to be perfect. I placed a pile of cracked corn at the entrance of her nesting box, along with a dish of feed along with chopped tomato and greens. Plus a fresh bowl of water in case princess is thirsty. We closed the duck pen door to keep let her keep her nesting privacy. If the door is left open the chickens party in there and a little orange dog (we will not mention the hellion's name) would run laps thru the pen at high doggie speeds. Petunia would squeak warnings which made it all the more fun for the orange urchin.
Meanwhile back at the barn, Clover is wandering around chirping like a crazed turkey hen. The two toms are doing their stuff, strutting, thumping and spreading their feathers, following Clovers every move, gobbling the whole time. This has been going on for ages it seems. Then one afternoon I notice the boys off playing, no Clover in sight. I wait an hour and the boys are still goofing off, no strutting, feathers flipping or annoyingly loud gobbles. What is going on now, this can't be good.
The search begins, I do one lap of the perimeter of the fenced in yard and field, with two stupid turkey's a dozen chickens and 3 dogs following me (Bailey was sleeping, he is 110 now). No sign of Clover anywhere. Now we have to check all the hidey spots we can think of. First is the upstairs of the barn, she loves to sneak up there. Then any odd spot under the pine tree's bushes and rocks (we have big rocks). Finally under the brush pile there is a little cave and a Clover within. She is hunkered down way back in this hole hiding. At the entrance to her hideaway the chickens are scratching up the ground, kicking eggs every which way. Clover had found the spot which she thought was perfect to lay her eggs. I took the turkey eggs away from the crazy chickens and waited for Clover to finish laying her current egg for collection.
That sneaky little girl was hiding them for a week or more from me in the brush pile. We have tried everything to entice her to lay eggs in or near the barn where it would be safe. The large wooden box, the garbage can or the 50 gallon drum were not good enough. She did show interest in the old dog house built into the front of the barn. That’s where I take the eggs, toss in lots of wood chips, decorate with muddy leaves and lot of dry grass and set them in there. The entrance is camouflaged with a wooden pallet, covered in grass, twigs and leaves. The chickens loved the new play area, Clover took one look inside, chirped and walked off, sigh. There is still hope, later she did go in and cover up her eggs then laid an egg in the old spot.
Darn, darn, darn, darn, now we disassemble the brush pile, taking away the hidey spot appeal. Behind the duck pen, Bruce builds a turkey condo with another 50 gallon barrel. He decorates the interior and exterior in early turkey, it looks great, the chickens love it. I go decorate the barrel in the barn the turkeys walk around the barrel, giving it the stink eye. The chickens of course love it .Now all we can do is wait and see.
Meanwhile back at the duck pen, there seems to have been a break in and out. We get home from work and Spangle is trapped in the duck pen, Petunia is out of the duck pen. They used the "secret hatch" that only Dimples had ever used. Obviously Dimple's little secret was not so secret. I go get Spangle out of the pen, Petunia goes back inside, hops on her nest and squeaks at me. I fill up her treat/food bowl, get princess fresh water and staple wire over the escape hatch. Now maybe there will be no chance of a chicken interrupting Petunia's delicate state. She now has the whole pen to herself or so I think, once again, we will have to wait and see.
The thrill is starting to dwindle a bit but the chickens are very excited with their new nesting areas.