The temperatures here are in the low 30s today. It’s snowing. It’s blowing. My fingers are so numb from working outside cleaning the chicken waterers, I can hardly feel them. But despite the cold, the snow and the wind, one courageous little chicken mustered up the courage to lay her first egg today.
Along with the daily collection of six eggs from the red, black and leghorn chickens I found a small, bluish-green surprise. It could only have been from one of the two Easter egg chickens.
Now the question is, which Easter egg chicken produced this winter surprise?
Was it Meredith?
Meredith
Or was it Dorothy?
Dorothy
The chickens aren’t talking. They’re wily that way.
P.S.
Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win this book.
Once again I am renaming the small garden area on the side of the house.
Back when Winifred, our sweet Belgian Malinois, was still with us, we called it Winnie’s Poop Garden. It was not a place where you wanted to spend your free time.
Last year, desperate for more vegetable growing space, I planted tomatoes and cucumbers there and dubbed it the Other Veggie Garden.
This year, the Palazzo di Pollo and the auxiliary chicken coop, the Eglu, now reside in that area. And since I was dividing what seemed like hundreds of hostas this spring, I began transplanting them into the shaded area beside the coops. Naturally, I added more hostas as I fell in love with them during visits to garden centers. I called it the Hosta Garden, but just as easily could have called it the Slug Garden, since the slugs and snails moved in to partake of the expansive hosta buffet—their fav.
Now that the baby chicks are old enough for some supervised walkabout time, I am calling this the Chicken Garden. This is where the big chickens and little chickens are currently engaged in their nightly meet-and-greet leading up to the merge of the two tribes.
Miss P adores the chickens. She would, in fact, love to eat the chickens. But being a smart cat, she understands they are off-limits and has ceased making predatory moves in their direction. It doesn't stop her from looking though.
You cannot just toss little chickens in with big chickens because they will be pecked on and could be injured. It is best for chickens to get to know each other a bit, work out their differences in relative safety and begin establishing the new pecking order prior to being thrust under the same roof. Using the Eglu as the temporary home for new chickens allows the chickens to see each other but not co-mingle until they are ready. This also allows us to ensure that the new chickens are disease- and pest-free before introducing them into the flock.
Now that the Polish and Easter egg chickens are about 11 weeks old, it’s just a matter of days before we attempt the big move. Until then, they peck and scratch in the Chicken Garden under close supervision. After all, we don’t want a repeat of the incident that took Johnny Cash.
P.S.
I SWEAR I am still gardening. I have the photos to prove it. More soon.
P.P.S.
You can see the whole chicken photo album here. Click on the photo for a larger image. There are more photos in the albums from the photos sign at the top of this page.
I wonder if the reason God makes baby animals so adorably cute is to ensure that we will love and care for them?
Think of a baby kitten’s wide-eyed stare, puppies tumbling over each other in enthusiastic play, baby koala bears holding on to their mums, baby kids flopping their big ears around. Heck, even babies that grow up to be killers are lovable when they’re little—baby bear cubs, coyotes, foxes.
Not snakes though. A small size does not improve a snake’s lovability factor.
Baby chicks, I think, rank among the most adorable of the adorable baby animals. Adorablest? I know because I have six new baby chicks as of this morning—two buff laced Polish, two standard white crested blue and two Easter egg standard. (At least, that’s what I ordered.)
This adorable Easter egg standard's name is Meredith. Not only will Meredith go nicely with Myrtle, Maude, Madelein and Marilyn, but it is also Ben's girlfriend's name. Live long and prosper, Meredith!
This little cutie is one of the Easter egg standards and will grow up to lay blue/green eggs.
If everyone survives to adulthood, we will then have 12 hens and a big old rooster named T. Boone Chickens. That will double the number of hens T. Boone must service.
My husband keeps shaking his head and asking, “What are we going to do with a dozen eggs a day?”
Frankly, I don’t give a damn. I just like my chickens. The eggs dishes are a bonus—quiche, pound cake, omelets, souffle, frittatas, egg salad, deviled eggs, creme brulee, chocolate ice cream, cookie dough ice cream, chocolate chip cherry ice cream…
What’s on your plate today? The weather here is sunny and at least not frigid. I’ll continue my early spring garden cleanup and also clean and repair bird houses. The bluebirds have made their return and are already checking out the real estate. What a joy to watch over my Sunday morning coffee.
I find this one of the most anxiety-producing times of the year in the garden.
As I head outside and begin the winter cleanup, the whole summer garden thing just seems incredibly overwhelming. There’s so much to do. And I’m just one person out there. Honestly, I felt like sitting down to have a good cry about mid-afternoon. But I managed to put one foot in front of the other and actually got a good amount of tidy-up work done. Tomorrow will be more of the same.
Thank you everyone who left a comment explaining how you approach reading and leaving comments on blog posts. The cumulative input has been extremely helpful. The overall consensus is that you’ll read comments if it’s an interesting discussion. You don’t usually subscribe to comments because it clogs up your email box. And you’ll only check back to see if the author has responded if you’ve left a question. That about sums it up.
On another note, I have selected by random number generator the winner of Grocery Gardening. She’s been notified. When she responds back, I’ll announce who she is.
I went outside to re-fill the bird feeders—AGAIN. The parts of my lawn that don’t look like the frozen tundra resemble a swamp. With every step I take my foot sinks down at least an inch. Walking to the feeders I can see my path in the mud.
I also see that we lost one small ornamental tree by the driveway as well as one of my rose trellises, which succumbed to the weight of the snow.
Spring better hurry up and get here. I have a lot of work to do.
Are you sick of everyone talking about the weather? I am too, but here goes…
There is so much snow on the ground, I don’t know when it’ll all melt. On top of that, much of it has iced to the extent that moving it from one place to another requires a pick ax. Walking in the back yard to fill the bird feeders is like walking on a bumpy ice rink. There are trees and bushes that need a bit of first aid to remove partially broken branches, but I don’t dare risk skating across the ice with my pruners. Not yet anyway.
Still, there is hope. Although we’re expecting snow flurries today, the weather should warm up into the forties in the next few days, providing some melting relief.
But really, all this unrelieved WHITE is getting to me!
