Thursday, October 20, 2011

Help from

Right at the top of Things I get to do today is contact Randy.  Most of the hens who've spent time on my city farm were raised by him.  You know about the current flock, Gwyneth, Nina, Latifah, Miss Horne and (for this writing I'll still count) Nora, who just last night flitted gently and quietly off to chicken heaven.  She came to me with a kidney condition and in spite of it lived with us for nearly a year, for the most part giving no evidence of anything other than robust health.  But as she began her first molt, she's been slowing down.  The last couple of days she pretty much just stood still.  I laid her to rest surrounded by cozy straw to shelter from the damp earth.  She's the second Nora to scratch and lay and peck and patrol this space.

Sweet Singing Nora Jones a year ago on her first day at my farm

We have to have a black and white hen in the flock.  That's the color my husband likes best.  Caring for farm animals is not at the bottom of his list.  It is not on his list at all.  "Aversion" is probably the best one-word description of his feelings about that activity.  Just too much pooy stuff.  But he does appreciate the Silver Lace Wyandotte hens.  They remind him of a childhood keepsake.  And since he humors me in all my chicken mania, I do my best to have the flock provide some visual appeal for him.

Randy says he has Barred Plymouth Rocks and Silver Penciled Rocks (both black & white breeds).  We'll have to generate one more name if we get two hens.  (At the pace I move through chickens, and being an avid recycler, we do reuse the names.)  So Nora will live on in a new body with a new dress, and if the other hen is as glamorous, we could call her Katy.   Truly nice hens.

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