Green Mountain Girls

The girls are not a militia.  Well, in some respects they are.  Earwigs, earthworms, cutworms, flies, spiders, little creepy critters of all kinds would definitely consider these chickens to be armed.  Sharp beaks and strong toe-nailed feet count as lethal weapons.

Mountain of gifted greens

When my hens bellied up to the mountain of grass clippings and clover dumped from the five-gallon bucket, they meant business, and they became the Green Mountain Girls, for just a minute or two.  Collecting the bucket of greens from my sister's place was one of the Things I get to do today.  Dumping it in the hen house where they could forage without concern for the rain was another.  Eating their way through the pile as tall as they were was their job which they dispatched with the precision of a platoon of soldiers.  What they didn't eat, they scratched.  Days later whatever is left will have dried and become the pickings for a boring day inside coop while a fall storm thrashes its way through.

Field of Dreams

Scratch, scratch, a flyin'

Chickens dream of fat, round grubs.  At least that's my guess.  If they dreamt of scratching the way dogs dream of chasing, their paws twitching, nose snuffing, and little "whiffle, whiffles" telling us of their progress, it would be difficult for the hens to stay on the roost.  So I think they dream of worms, long, stretchy ones and fat, fat short ones and grubs that are always short and fat.

Making chicken dreams

Things I get to do today included removing grass, weeds and roots from a huge berm area in the yard.  The by-product was 5 contractor-size wheelbarrows of debris that went straight to the hen pen.  It was spread out to cover the hard-pack of mud set up by the drier weather.  Hens can't scratch mud turned to brick. But this debris, filling with grubs and worms and seeds and green grass was heaven.  I know it made rich dreams.

Green Feeding Frenzy

The head of lettuce already torn apart for easier access

They take bigger bites than I do, I swear! Lena Horne Hen tore off a piece of lettuce two inches square and swallowed until it went down.

OK.  This one is a little too big to swallow.

The rest of the girls didn't take smaller bites because they were polite.  It was just the luck of the tear.  Grab what you can.

Getting down to the last leaf

When a whole head of bolted lettuce (all you garden folks know that's what it's called when it is starting to grow tall and make seeds) lands in your yard, in the hen world you have to get to busy or there'll be nothing left to cackle about (or eat).

Katy reigns over the core

Going down!

The first lettuce plantings have turned bitter, so chicken Things I get to do today are fling a head over the hen-pen fence and watch the gals gobble it down.  I'm expecting them to say "oink."

Chicken Tomatoes

My hens don't lay tomatoes.  They lay just the regular yellow-yoke and clear-white eggs.  The yokes are actually orange because they eat so much green grass, but that's another story.

We had our first real frosty night on Halloween.  Costumes on the skimpy side had blue people inside no matter what the theme of the outfit.  It seems to happen that way every year.

Sad looking tomatoes gone over the hill

 Mini candy bars and Halloween aside, the frost means that I'm late in taking care of the tomato vines and the remaining red, cracked, orange, pale-yellow and green tomatoes.  So my helpers in the hen pen are thrilled about the Things I get to do today.  As I clean up the beds and make a collection of tomatoes that may ripen in the house, I'm also filling a bucket with all the others for the sweet-singing gals.   The best treat for the sweeties in the feather outfits is "chicken tomatoes."

Trick-or-treaters who showed up at my place.

Cozy, stunning costume with a pink chicken inside

Chicken Candy