Heat Crazy

While setting the sprinkler (hen AC), I nearly
planted my foot on this very unexpected egg!

Maybe it was because I carelessly "locked" the hens out from the nests one long day.  Or maybe they just decided to do the REAL Free Range Eggs thing.  Or perhaps they were inspired by the cute little Song Sparrow nest from last week's blog.  Or the heat has made us all a little daffy.

Things I get to do today, everyday this past week, have me providing extra measures to cool my hot hens.  I set sprinklers about in their yard to wet the ground.  Damp earth is cool earth.

Egg to the right (hard to see) about three feet from the clutch of eggs
 down in a hollow under these branches pruned from the Sequoia tree.
Such a perfect, cute, sheltered little nest! Felt guilty taking the eggs away.

I thought they were just sitting in the shade, panting.  But these girls are full of surprises. Everyday is an adventure.  And I think the heat has made them or me or both a little crazy.

Roll Call

Today's the day.  Yup.  All the girls have checked in.  Now I'm thinking back to very early winter when none of the girls was laying.  I remember taking in the first one, and then learning how to count all the way to two.  Surely, keeping track of the hens laying records as they were first figuring it all out would make a terrific two-year-old's project:  if you can hold up two fingers, you've got the egg counting thing covered.

Katie, Lena, Nina, Latifah and Nora laying it on the line

But now, now, it takes me both hands, full to overflowing on some days, to bring in their gifts as one of the Things I get to do today.   




"Katie Perry Chicken, thank you, dear. Such a rich shade of tan."

"Miss Nina Simone Chicken, got your work done early today as usual, I see.  Thanks so much.

"Nora Jones Hen, I do say, such a big handsome egg you lay, lovely, just lovely."

"And Queen Latifah Chicken, what do we have here in the nest? Thank you for remembering where to put it this time."

"And my darling, shy, Lena Horne Hen, such a delicate, warm egg you just laid. Thank you, sweet shy one."

Blissed on My Butt

It's been awhile since I've sung any hymns.  Yesterday this old one sprang out of nowhere, drawn by the glorious bright orb in the clearest of blue overhead.  "Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine, filling my soul with Glory Divine."  That's as far as my memory would take me, and that was enough. It was straight from heaven, no matter what your religious views, and it filled my soul, my heart and my body.  It was bliss.  You can tell we have been seriously missing the sun in Portland.

Gloriously healthy peony in its protective support

I was sitting on the earth making the beds of collected flowers, shrubs and various plants look prettier.  Some of you would call it weeding, but the emphasis and the spirit of my task is entirely different from the drudgery that is associated with that term.  I was taking my time and taking my time all at once.  It was bliss.  It doesn't get any better than this in the Things I get to do today--play in the earth, rearrange for my pleasure the beauty of these that grow, and bless each with my heart and love as they are seen and touched.

OMG (in the very best sense)

Shock and awe!  What to my wondering eyes did appear?  I discovered that the lovely twig cages used to protect perennial shoots from spring-loaded chicken feet were still very much alive.  They are sprouting leaves.  Next puzzle for Handy Andy:  plan for keeping the twig cages but not have them grow into vigorous variegated Dog Wood bushes around my favorite flowers!

Ladies-in-Waiting

Stand on one foot.  Now, stand on the other foot.  Now, let out a squawk.  That's the Lady-in-waiting dance.  In royal courts, ladies-in-waiting were companions and fancy servants who excelled in etiquette, conversation, dance, and making music.  In the hen club, a lady-in-waiting does all that of her royal counterpart, but in addition, she is ready to lay an egg.

Queen L dodging the paparazzi on the lower right
Miss Lena pacing and tending

Queen Latifah Hen reigned supreme the other day as I was checking off various Things I get to do today from my list. Her shrill shriek had the other hens giving their heads a snap to shake the sharp edges of the sound out of their ears. Since they think I'm the head rooster, I trucked out to the coop to see just exactly what was going on.

Miss Lena mid-cackle as Katy heads toward the nest

Latifah was on the nest, the special throne nest, to be exact.  There are three nest boxes, and occasionally eggs show up in the other two.  The middle box is the preferred, however, and Latifah was taking her time. Lena Horne Hen, Second Lady-in-Waiting, paced back and forth keeping her company, chatting quietly, and intermittently giving a cackle to make everyone aware that something important was happening.

Katy ready to slip in on the right.
When an egg is on the way, a hen needs a nest.

Near as I could tell, the problem was that Miss Katy Perry Chicken, Urgent Lady-in-Waiting, wanted to lay her egg--soon.  Every time she moved toward any of the nest boxes, Queen L would shriek.  It sounded like short-speak for "Off with her head!"  Fortunately there were no soldiers to carry out the orders, and in time Katy was able in sneak into the nest box along side, lay her egg, and get the heck out of there.





It is getting close to Easter.  Latifah, aka, The Easter Bunny, for her habit of dropping her eggs all around the coop and the hen pen, needs to be cut a little slack here.  She had, after all, figured out how to sit on her throne and wait.

Eggaggeration

Average-sized egg on the left.
Anyone want to guess how many yokes in the big one?**

I am not making this up.* One of my hens, I know it wasn't Katy Perry Chicken or Queen Latifah Chicken, laid a "goose" egg this morning.  If this is what happens with free-range hens, then open the gates!

Of all the Things I get to do today, weighing and measuring this BIG chicken egg is definitely the most curious.  The enormous egg weighed in at three ounces while the average is only two. Hens aren't that heavy themselves, and packing this dude around while it was in the making must have caused a case of heavy butt.

Further deduction tells me it came from Lena Horne Hen; she eased the giant into the nest first thing this morning.  Smart hen:  I wouldn't want to carry it all day myself.

*Dave Barry fans will recognize his frequently-used disclaimer.

**Note added 2/29/12:  This giant yielded two full-sized yokes.

On the Lam and Loving It

My chickens are on the lam.  Sounds like I've got a strange farm, but you know what I mean.  They are wild about the greens and the creepy-crawlies that live on the outside. And that's where they are, loose, on the lam in my yard.

When I tightened security measures after Gwyneth disappeared, along with the six-foot fence, up went the six-foot gates.  Funny thing about a shorter gate: after you go through it, you turn around, reach over and fasten the latch to secure it.  Well, you can probably see where I'm headed with this.  I'm tall, but it would require a real giant to reach over a six-foot gate to secure the latch.  I thought about it for an instant, then poked my fingers through the chicken wire and spent two minutes or more coaxing the latch up into its home.  Better think that one through again.

Brand new world

There are actually two gates.  One will stay in whatever position I want, closed or open.  The other has no mind of its own.  I close it, and its closed.  The wind blows, and its open.  While I had my head tucked into the coop today, giving it a good overhaul and cleaning, the wind picked up.  When I stepped out, the gate was open, and the girls were exploring the untested and untasted beds and lawns they had previously only dreamed about.  What a great day for a hen-pen break!



They were safe as long as I was present with chicken chores.  So they were free to drift from flower bed to lawn to moss to flower bed, their soft chicken chatter scattered generously about.  But now I'm nearly finished--putting a magnetic catch on the mindless gate has to be next of all the Things I get to do today.  

Safer back in the hen pen.

Two minutes later, I'm ready to go inside.  I trill "Girls,  Girls" and watch as all five come running at top speed.  Without a moment's hesitation, they dart into the hen yard for their treat of rolled oats--extra thick, organic, Bob's Red Mill rolled oats.

"Snap" goes the gate magnet.