Chicken Ranchin'

Tater getting up close and personal

Here we are, just chicken ranchin’ on our mini-ranch.  These chickens are pretty funny and high maintenance. The, what you might call, “honeymoon period,” is wearing off.  I want them out of my garage.  Yesterday.

The 7 little birds are no longer little and I keep calling them “baby chicks” when they really are adolescent chickens.  They outgrew their little tub and had to be moved into Taylor’s little blue swimming pool with chicken wire around it.  I made this executive decision when one night I was sitting in the living room and could hear a distressed chirp of a chicken.  I poke my head out into the garage to find one had “flown the coop” and was sitting outside the small tub, calling to its friends, “save me.” (I’m not sure if those were its exact words, but it sure sounded like it.)  I scooped it up, calmed it down and decided they were moving to a type of chicken half-way out the next day.  Hence the kiddie pool, which they actually love. I put a rock in there and every once in a while you’ll catch one up there looking around, then looking down giving its chicken roommates the look of “yeah, look at me!”

Chicken Halfway House-Halfway between the storage tub and the chicken coop!

Some things I have observed about the chickens are that they are not very bright.  I saw one actually back its chicken bootie up to its food trough and take a shite.  IN its food.  Then they fly around scattering sawdust all over the place, including their water dish, which is a nasty mess to clean up.  They also love to sneak up on Tater and peck her tail. I’m pretty sure this is not the best idea they have had, but Tater has done a very good job of keeping her mouth shut, except for a few licks.  I’m really proud of her, but wouldn’t leave them alone for a minute.  I think in reality she feels the need to protect Taylor from them, but what really needs to be happening is she needs to protect the chicks from Taylor. He is their only predator at this moment.  We’re working on it.

"Instincts tell me this is a very large worm..."

On sunny days we have been taking them outside to stretch their wings and just give them some room to explore.  Taylor likes to show them how to use the slide.  He also finds is so frustrating that they move so dang fast now.  A few weeks ago he could scoop them up and hold them while they peeped in his little hands. Now they are running/flying away from him.  If he does get his hands on one, they are shrieking chicken S.O.S. while he holds them by the wings and then tries to pull their toes off. Honestly, chicken feet are the sickest feet of all feet in the animal kingdom.  I love my chickens, but ick.  Even worse when they are flailing in your face as your son tries to kiss them on the head and/or throw them down the slide. Ick.

"You WILL go down the slide!"

They still have some more feathers to grow and then they are outside in their lovely coop.  I know I will be like a new mother bringing home her baby, peaking outside and listening to cries.  I’m so worried something is going to hurt them, but I have to trust Keith’s chicken coop design and recite the wise words of my Grandma Bunny: “it’s just the way it is on a farm, Babe.  Animals die.”  Great. 

Adolescent Chicken

Top 5 Phrases of Chicken Ranching (so far) include:

*Taylor, do not squeeze the chicks

*Taylor, do not kick the chicks.  Go sit on the steps in timeout.

*Taylor, they are fast. You have to be quicker. Stop crying because you cannot catch them anymore.

*TATER, NO!

*!@#$ As I try and catch them!

Finding protection in the mini-castle

Taylor's favorite job: scooping chicken feed

Week 1

We’ve had our chicks for almost a week and they are all still alive!  The morning we went to Basin Feed to pick them up I was so nervous and excited.  The place was full of baby chicks and ducks.  I asked the guy working there for 6 chicks, after overhearing him say that the hatchery they got their chicks from was  having a problem with dehydrated chicks (I then heard him say about 20 percent had already died. I flashed him a disgusted look of “do not do this to me!” and then regained my composure.).  My thought was to ask for 6, in case one died.  Well his though was the same and he threw in an extra for me.  I was so distracted by trying to make sure Taylor didn’t fall into one of the chick barrels while reaching for a fluffy bundle of fun, that I didn’t realize I had 7 until we got home!  And as things just work out this way, I was stuck behind the slowest driver in the Tri Cities with 7 chirping cold, hungry, dehydrated and scared baby chicks skidding around in a cardboard box in the car.

The first few days were really fun getting to know the chicks. They got settled in nicely in their plastic bin lined with cedar shavings.  My husband even enjoyed watching them just walk around and peck at their food and water. They are very relaxing.  But dang, those things poop a lot, eat a ton and sleep most of the day. It’s like I have 7 newborns (but I never kept my newborn in a plastic tub under a heat lamp). 

About 3 days into the experience I noticed that one of the bigger chicks had what I would call in my best medical terms, a “poopy butt.”  I was convinced it was prolapsing and I was going to have a dead chick on my hands. I was already mentally preparing a mini-chick funeral for it, had the shoe box picked out and thought about picking up some flowers at the grocery store.  I was pretty upset, especially after I had someone tell me that one was probably going to die anyway.  So I asked a lady at Basin Feed what to do and she said just clear its little bootie of any poopy and hopefully it will be okay. So there I was, holding a warm wet paper towel on a baby chick’s fuzzy, yellow butt, picking off chicken sh*t.  Again, not what I signed up for, but I had to. Being a mother and dealing with a constipated infant had prepared me for such endeavors, but it was not how I was intending on spending the evening.  Needless to say, Poopy Butt is healthy and just needs to keep herself cleaner, just like a typical teenager.  I even saw one of her chick friends pecking at her butt, so I see they are helping each other out like true friends.  I’ll have to put some Greek letters on their chicken coop and make them a chick sorority soon as they are obviously very loyal to one another already.

Now, Taylor and the chicks have a growing and changing relationship.  When they were hungry, tired and slightly dehydrated, they were not fast enough to really run from his pudgy little hands reaching in to grab at them.  He’d pick one up, turn it upside down, check it out from all angles  and set it back in the bin.  It took some coaching to get him not to squeeze them too hard.  I had to be very patient in letting him learn how to do this (sorry chicks who had their insides rearranged a few times.) My thought was that if I’m okay with cooking 12 chicken wings on the BBQ at least once a week, then I have to be patient and not too worried that my two-year-old is squeezing a baby chick until its eyes bulge.  More chicks have a worse fate.  Now Taylor is a pro as scooping them up with two hands, setting them down gently and just watching them peck at the ground.  They are getting pretty fast though, so we have to watch them at all times when out of their bin.  Their little wings are getting real feathers and they are going through awkward teenage chicken stage.

Tater is being a very good girl around them as well. The first few days they were in the garage she paced the door to the garage wanting to be near them.  She just peeks her head in and doesn’t even snap or lick them.  I do believe she is jealous because she has been coming out at night to sit on the couch with us and snuggle.  Poor girl, always feeling displaced.

And that’s life as a mother hen.  I have to change their bedding, water and food each day. Their poops are getting pretty large and they cannot keep their water clean.  I’m looking forward to when they can go outside in about 5 more weeks, when they have all their real feathers.  I’m praying they can learn to return to their roost and not become chicken dinner for any predators out there.  A mother is never done worrying, right? 

T Minus 6 Days

It’s one week from “Chick Day” and I’m trying to imagine what daily life is going to be like with a dog, a toddler and 5 chicks. I’m pretty excited since this has been a wish of mine since I moved to the Tri Cities and saw it was an option.  So when my 30^th birthday rolled around and my husband asked what I wanted, I didn’t ask for a trip to Las Vegas or a new piece of jewelry. I simply replied, “chickens.”  With his list, plans and new power tools, my husband went forth and started building a beautiful chicken coop, which is now stuck in the backyard on the forklift.   No worries though. Chicks have to be kept under a heat lamp for a few weeks until they get their real feathers, so the garage will be their home until they move to their beautiful Chicken Hilton.

Things I know right now about chicks and chickens 1) they’re so soft 2) they’re so cute 3) they need to be under a heat lamp for a while 4) I need to feed and water them daily and 5) if one of them dies I’m going to be pissed.

Wish me luck! T minus 6 days until our chicks arrive.