Wandering Eggs

Well, it's happened again. The two wooden eggs in the laying box are gone. When that occurred several years ago, we figured a bird took them. Ravens are the usual suspects in such cases, so I imagine there's a crestfallen raven out there somewhere.

Wooden eggs (or plastic, but I like the aesthetics of wood) encourage chickens to lay in the laying box. Without that inducement, free range hens tend to lay eggs in a variety of places, sites often difficult for humans to access or even find. One of my previous dogs, Dreamer, used to locate such egg clutches. She would eat one before showing me where they were. I caught on to her methods when I spotted the proverbial egg on her face.

Now I just have to remember where I bought the wooden facsimiles last time because I want to egg on my hen as to where to lay.

Dreamer

Umm, No Eggs

My hen, Miss Kitty, has turned broody, which means she wants chicks. However, she's currently sitting on the two wooden eggs I placed in the laying box to encourage the hens to lay eggs there. And even if she had real eggs, it wouldn't do her any good. I don't have a rooster. Sigh. I can't convince her of the futility of her endeavor.

"Let's see if Miss Kitty laid any eggs."

Believe it or not, the title of this post, what Kenneth said to his sister Violet, really does make sense.

Their parents, my friends, helped me shear one and 3/4 sheep on Sunday. (That's a tale for another time.) Anyway, while we were shearing, my lone surviving hen (see the post from 8/12/13 for that story) decided to perch on the open window sill of the chicken coop.

Violet quietly approached her and started stroking her feathers. The hen stayed put. Violet petted her some more. The hen seemed to really enjoy it. She remained sitting, facing into the chicken coop, with her tail to the world -- just like a cat wanting its rear end petted, according to Violet and Kenneth.

They asked what the hen was called. I said I hadn't named this bunch as they all looked pretty much the same, and I couldn't really tell them apart. However, now that only one chick remained, we decided it was fitting for her to have a name. So the kids dubbed her "Miss Kitty," since she wanted to be petted just like a cat.

"Let's see if Miss Kitty laid any eggs." Kenneth and Violet hurried into the barn and scrambled up a low partition to reach the rafters where Miss Kitty roosts. Now, you must understand that this hen has an avian form of OCD, what I call OED, Obsessive Egg Disorder. She insists on trying to hatch her eggs, despite the absence of a rooster.

When she indulged her obsession in the laying box, I was able to remove the eggs daily. Since she started laying them in the rafters of the barn, I've been remiss about collecting them. The kids discovered 13 eggs up there. Kenneth tested them and found, unfortunately, that they had all gone bad.

Not wanting them to go to waste, though, the kids created works of art. The masterpieces below include a dog, Pikachu, Bulbasaur, and Lilo and Stitch.

Catching Up

An August 12th resolution: blog frequently and on a regular basis.

A variety of things have happened around here -- good, bad, and peculiar.

I learned to tablet weave (or card weave) on an inkle loom and how to tablet weave words into the bands. I'll post more about that later and include pictures. It's fun and very cool.

Much to my dismay, a coyote killed three of my hens. I only have two left now. I walked out to feed them one morning a couple weeks ago and caught movement out of the corner of my eye. It took me several seconds to realize I was looking at a coyote. He ran, with one of my hens in his mouth, across the property and jumped a five-foot fence topped with a strand of barbed wire into the neighbors' property and raced out their open gate.

When I looked around, I found three piles of feathers. He had already eaten two hens before I appeared on the scene. I was so sad and so angry. The two hens that survived are my two obsessed chickens that keep sitting on eggs that won't hatch. But at least that kept them out of the coyote's reach.

I was very worried that he'd come back. I read up on how to keep coyotes out of your property. One suggestion was to spray ammonia on the fence. I bought a bottle of ammonia that afternoon after work and sprayed it along the fence line. The coyote hasn't been back.

I've raised free-range chickens for almost ten years. This is the first time I've lost any to a wild predator. A couple friends suggested the coyote may have been displaced by the Yarnell Hill fire which was only about 20 miles away. That makes sense. Perhaps he was passing through this area.

A peculiar incident happened today. The water pump inside the house kept running when it should have turned off. I dashed to the window looking for any signs of water flowing. The faucet at one of the water troughs was on, and water was pouring onto the grass. I hurried out and turned it off.

I guess one of the sheep turned it on somehow. That's never happened before, but I can't think of a better explanation. I certainly doubt someone walked all the way across my property, turned on a faucet, and then left. It was very odd, though. Am I going to have to lock the faucets to prevent the sheep from turning them on?

On another note, the monsoon rains resulted in lots of beautiful green grass. The sheep have certainly enjoyed grazing it.

A Day in the Life

I don't really have typical days, but this was how yesterday went.

Dierdre and I fed the sheep and chickens first thing in the morning. The weather was beautiful: bright blue sky, no wind, and just a bit cool. I fed the sheep from the hay in the back of the truck. Don't worry. I've stopped parking it on top of a hill; it's safely situated on nice, flat ground. I do need to unload it, though. Scout has been treating it like a salad bar again. I covered the hay near the tailgate, but he managed to pull the cloth away and indulge. He's not even bothering to look guilty anymore. He turned and looked at me with his hay-covered face and then went back to munching.

The chickens are free range, but I supplement their food during the winter. Once grass, weeds, and bugs begin to flourish, they'll be on their own. For now, though, every morning they eagerly run to me for grain and get downright annoyed if I don't immediately feed them. It's kind of strange to have a flock of hens rush you (even if "rush" means waddle-waddle as fast as they can.) I keep telling the chicks they're free range and are going to have to forage completely for themselves soon, but I don't think they believe me.

After breakfast, I loaded the car with my presidential paraphernalia for my Mountain Spinners and Weavers Guild (http://www.mtnspinweave.org/) meeting. Being president is heavy! I have to take a large notebook, a briefcase-sized microphone system, an extension cord, a large coffee can in which to put the names of people who participate in show and tell, and any mail the guild has received that month. Yesterday I also brought two borrowed knitting books that I wanted to return to a guild member and two library books and a video I needed to take back to the public library. Additionally, I put a dozen eggs in the car to drop off at a neighbor's house on the way out of town.

The program at the guild meeting was great. The Barrington House Educational Center (http://www.thebarringtonhouse.org/) presented a program on “Fashionable Women of the Arizona Territory,” a pictorial program defining the current trends in women’s fashions from 1860 to Arizona Statehood in 1912, investigating how real Arizona women dressed during this time period. Clad in period clothing, the speakers showed numerous pictures of 19th- and early 20th-century clothing and enhanced their presentation with items from their collection. During the program I worked on a variegated cotton camisole that I'm knitting.

I stopped by Goodwill (they were having a 50%-off sale) and Costco following the guild meeting. I spent a bit too long enjoying the free samples at Costco and didn't have time to go into the library, so I just dropped off my books and video in the book return box. I had to hurry home because visitors were coming to help me shear a sheep.

Deb, a fellow guild member, and two of her friends, Pam and Laurie, arrived ready to shear. We had to delay things just a bit, so I could sharpen a couple pairs of shears. They filled a few buckets with manure for their gardens while they waited.

Dierdre, unfortunately, had to stay in the house. She's a wonderful dog but is not an asset during shearing. In fact, she makes everything much more difficult. She wants to participate in EVERY aspect of sheep raising and thinks she should always herd any sheep in my presence. Considering the sheep to be shorn is on a shearing stand and is stressed by the whole experience, having an enthusiastic Briard trying to herd it is not a good thing. So Dierdre stays in the house and barks and whines during shearing. I don't understand it. She's very smart and knows her complaints aren't going to do any good, but she keeps it up the entire time. I figure she's just trying to make me feel guilty for excluding her.

We chose a yearling black ram to shear. He was amazingly well behaved, especially considering it was his first shearing. I greatly appreciated the help getting him on the shearing stand. We had fun shearing. It was a new experience for my guests. They all did very well.

This particular ram did not get named last year, so we spent some time coming up with a suitable appellation for him. The suggestions ranged from George (after George Clooney) to Skipper from "Gilligan's Island." We finally settled on Solomon. I won't even attempt to follow the trains of thought that led to that name.

After we finished shearing, we fed the sheep. Deb tried to pet Solomon, but he clearly had had enough human interaction and kept sidestepping her.

We oohed and aahed over Solomon's wool as we carried it inside, and I showed off Sierra's locks from her shearing last week. (I'll post pictures of Sierra's gorgeous white fleece soon.)

After the others left, I grabbed a shower. There's no way you can shear a sheep and avoid smelling like one. I like how sheep smell and love the lanolin in their wool, but I have no desire to smell like one after I've finished shearing.

I fed Dierdre, fixed myself some dinner, and ate while watching an episode of "Sons of Anarchy" on DVD. I contemplated knitting or writing a blog post or weaving but only found enough energy to play "Words with Friends" on Facebook for awhile. And that was my day.

Solomon, newly sheared

Egg, Egg, Chicken

Some of my hens started laying again a few weeks ago after their winter hiatus. I have six hens that are a year old this month and one (Elderchick) that will be 10 years old in July. I've been getting two to four eggs a day since they resumed laying. Today there were six eggs!

I don't know if Elderchick is laying. She produced magnificently last year for her age.

However, this is the first time since the young 'uns began laying that I've had six eggs in one day. Now, if I get seven eggs on the same day, it will be incontrovertible proof everybody's on the job.

Rain and Chickens Don't Mix

It rained a lot on the Fourth of July. This was actually a good thing. We hadn't had rain for several weeks and were in sore need of it. The precipitation stopped late afternoon and the clouds began to disappear, so fireworks were still possible.

This was the first time my 3 1/2-month old chicks (chicklets? tween chicks?) had experienced anything but sunny weather. The last time it rained (or snowed) they were still housed inside. I had placed the top of an old dog house in their enclosure awhile back to give them extra shelter. I didn't know if they'd ever used it, but I figured they would definitely get under it when it rained. Sigh. I seriously overestimated young chicken intelligence.

It was raining pretty hard when I looked out the window and saw the six chicks huddled together, getting soaked. So out I went into the now pouring rain and chased chicks around until I caught them, one by one, and put them in the shelter. At least they stayed put once I deposited them there. I was afraid they'd bolt right out again, but apparently they grasped immediately the advantages of the situation. By the time I, with great effort and much running through the rain, caught each chick and placed her under the dog house roof, I was soaked. I really looked as though I had taken a shower fully dressed, but at least the chicks were safely ensconced.

I peeked out occasionally to make sure they were still under cover, and they were. They didn't stick their heads out again until the rain had completely stopped. Now I just wonder if they'll remember to get in out of the rain next time!

Very Busy

Last week I finally planted some peas. Since they haven't emerged yet, the chicks are still day-tripping to the garden; I take them in each evening. They are thoroughly enjoying being able to run around, chase bugs, and do some experimental flying. They're about seven weeks old now and growing like mad.

They had a scare two days ago. Friends visited with their dog, who is quite a bit smaller than Dierdre. He squeezed between the fence and garden gate and went after the chicks. Luckily the visiting kids were already in the garden and caught him as he grabbed hold of the tail of one of the chicks. Although she lost some feathers, no real harm was done.

I finished a large weaving custom order and shipped it on Monday. Yesterday and today I and other members of my fiber guild are selling our work at a fair in downtown Prescott; I spent yesterday morning there. I also gave a talk yesterday, "From Sheep to Shawl," at the Prescott Highland Games. Afterwards, I went back to the Courthouse Square and spent a couple more hours at the guild's booth.

Dierdre accompanied me all day. I think she was a little overwhelmed by all the people and dogs, but she seemed to have a good time. I have a small skein of yarn I spun from her fur, so I showed it to people as an example of "chiengora." People often jokingly suggest I spin her fur, since she has so much hair, so it was fun to show them I had done so. By about 4:00, she was giving me that "are we going home soon?" look, so we loaded my spinning wheel into the car, went back to Wilhoit, and fed the sheep and chickens.

Baby Animal Updates

Heloise's lamb is doing well. She's guzzling lamb milk replacer from a bottle four times a day. I'm a bit frustrated, though, that she's not running to me each time I go out. Instead, she heads straight for Dierdre. Considering I feed her, and the dog pushes her around and tries to herd her, I'm not sure why the lamb's made the choice she has. But trying to understand lamb psychology is probably futile.

I moved the chicks to larger accommodations last week. They adjusted quickly to the bigger space, although they protested greatly during the two seconds it took to move each of them from the large box they were in to their new digs. Growing chicks certainly eat a lot!

Chicks, a Lamb, and Facebook

It's been a busy week. I bought six Ameraucana baby chicks on Wednesday. They're about 10 days old now.

This morning Heloise gave birth to this little lamb.

And I created a Facebook page for High Castle Traditional Crafts - https://www.facebook.com/HighCastleTraditionalCrafts.

An Egg!

Our 8 1/2- year-old hen laid an egg today. I'm so proud of her! She's pretty old to still be laying, even occasionally.

Wind and Chickens

It is very windy today. Taking the mail out to the mailbox at the road was quite the adventure. Dierdre and I walked back to the house with our heads down, leaning into the wind. It's one of those days I consider putting weights on the chickens to make sure they don't blow away!

Actually, we're down to just one hen. She's eight-and-a-half years old now and isn't laying anymore, although she did give a few eggs last year.

I'm planning on buying some baby chicks next month, Americaunas again. I really like their personalities, and, of course, they lay those beautiful eggs with the greenish shells. I have a place to put the baby chicks, but I'll have to build another pen for when they're old enough to be outside but not yet big enough to roam freely. My last coop was smashed in a wind storm; luckily it wasn't in use at the time. As I said at the beginning of my post, it can be very windy here sometimes!

Hey, Don't Eat That!

Dierdre keeps eating the COB (corn, oats, barley, and molasses) I bought for the sheep. Do all animals have a sweet tooth?

I rarely give the sheep COB, but I wanted the nursing ewes to get some extra calories, so I purchased a bag. All the sheep (including the rams who certainly don't need to put on weight) love it, as do the hens. But the dog?

PBSD

I think the hen Dierdre laid on is suffering from PBSD--Post Briard Stress Disorder! She's still moving slow and looking kind of groggy. Poor thing. But the hens have always recovered from Dierdre's herding imperative in the past, so she should be fine.

No Laying on Hens

That's what I admonished Dierdre, our Briard, this morning. We had 7" of snow last night, and this morning is gorgeous: sunny, blue sky, and lots of fluffy snow. Dierdre is having so much fun!

As soon as she went out the door, she dipped her muzzle in the snow and tossed her head up, letting snow fly. Then she went into puppy mode, head down, rear end in the air, wanting to play. (She's about eight years old, by the way.) She ran ahead of me toward the barn, circling back to me every minute or so, to make sure I was aware of how great the morning was.

She wanted to play! But the sheep wouldn't cooperate. All they were interested in was food. While I threw flakes of hay onto the snow, she herded sheep, but none of them shared her snow-loving enthusiasm.

Next she tried the hens, chasing them around the barn and out into the snow. My Americauna hens are pretty good size, but seven inches of snow is just too much for them; they sank half way up their bodies and had no chance to escape Dierdre's enthusiasm. I reached her just as she caught a hen and laid on her. She actually positions her quarry under her chest and lays on the unfortunate small animal to control it. She's done this to small lambs, hens, and a very annoyed Chihuahua. She doesn't want to hurt them, just govern them. I grabbed her collar and pulled her off, and the hen, looking very ruffled and affronted, ran for cover in the barn.

As I headed for the house, Dierdre tried one more time to get the sheep to "play", with, not surprisingly, no success. I called her, and she raced to me, ears and fur blowing, snow flying from her paws. She frolicked all the way to the door. A joyful dog really makes my day; I can't help but feel happy!

Lambs Really Do Bounce

During the last three weeks, we've been inundated with lambs. We have six now -- four girls and two boys. It is amazing how fast they grow and how quickly they move from that fragile, newborn state to stout little bundles of energy. The oldest lamb, Salty, was bouncing (literally) at four days old.

Another youngster, Basil, who is now four days old himself, chased a hen this morning. He didn't just walk, trot, or run after the chicken, instead he bounced! His mother and two other sheep were grouped together eating hay. The hen and Basil went round and round them, the hen running, Basil bouncing. (I'm laughing just remembering it.) The chagrined hen finally stopped circling and ran towards another hen; next thing I knew, Basil was bouncing after two chickens.

We're using herbs and spices (and salt) as the theme for this year's names for the lambs. We now have Salty, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Parsley, Basil, and Coriander.