updates

I will leave any serious update to Lorraine-

The Egg Has Landed

Yep, we found our first egg the other day! Flo laid it in a dirt ditch off the patio (off course). It was a remarkably large and well-shaped egg, just a bit skinny.

Today we got another egg, properly laid in the nesting box with a little hay nest dug in around it, but much smaller and pocky-looking. Sarah thinks that it's Phyllis's, but I think it's Flo's. I think she just got it unusually right on the first try and the second one was weird looking (as the first usually is).

We're hoping they continue to lay in the nesting box so we don't have to have an Easter egg hunt around the yard every day. As soon as we found the first one, we put a plastic egg in the box to convince them that that's where the eggs go. Apparently, this works because, well, chickens just aren't all that smart.

But they do lay tasty eggs. Maybe we'll have an omelet this weekend?

Knock Knock

Who's there? Oh, why, it's Millie, Flo, and Phyllis.

Indeed, the other week when I was working at home following Sarah's wrist incident, I heard a "knock knock" at the back door. I got up to see who it was and when I opened the door, lo and behold, who do you think was there?

You'll note the utter destruction of half of the begonia plant as well as the large blob of chicken poo on the porch. They sure know how to make themselves at home.

I've spent most of the past few weekends attempting to chicken-proof the patio and gardens, with some limited success. Turns out that the only lightweight fence that works against chickens is...chicken wire. Go figure.

Our girls are turning into quite the full-figured ladies. Flo has blossomed into a real beauty, although her waddles and comb are hilarious when they jiggle around during a sprint for a blueberry.















Mildred is still the most curious about us and likes to stick her head right up at us as if to say, "What do you look like...up close?"















Phyllis, alas, is still the dumbest, but she's darn cute and getting super plump. I call this one "Yellow Chicken with Purple Flowers."

I lied...

Sort of. So I won't bet getting the girls drunk- Lorraine points out that this would not be responsible chicken-owner behavior, and she is right.

But I will post an update of the girls. I promise to limit the update to mostly pics- since,well you know, a thousand words and all... (well actually, I will freely admit that my updates are far less entertaining than Lorraine's)

Essentially, the chickens are bigger, better and starting to plump out like real chickens.

Of particular note this month, the girls have discovered that they love blueberries. And I mean 'love' in the way a crack-head loves crack. Toss one in their direction, and instantly three sets of eagle... well, chicken eyes fasten onto this minuscule globe. Before it has even hit the ground, all three birds are flapping and scrabbling to be the first one to snatch it up and run flying across the yard in a ridiculous game of keep-away. They can maintain this for several minutes, until there is so little of the blueberry left, that someone just swallows it. (The same thing happens to moths that they discover in the lawn, alas...).

Flo is also becoming more spectacular, with shinning gold feathers rimmed by black (difficult to capture by camera) - but Millie remains the favorite, possibly because of her silly "ear muffs" but most likely because she is so extremely friendly and inquisitive.

(Millie right, Flo, left)

hiatus

I have to appologize for the lack of updates. I seem to have lost the camera and there doesn't seem to be much point in blogging without some sort of photographic evidence of progress...

Needless to say, our blog is a bit dull and Lorraine is a bit put out.

I promise to make it up to everyone once I find the camera by getting a pic of Millie the next time she hits the sauce.

However, in the interests of staying somewhat current, I will say that the chicks are definitely looking more like chickens these days, and Flo is getting downright pretty. The neighbors are also big fans by now, and even grumpy grandma was seen to be smiling at the girls as they spun crazily around the yard last night in pursuit of moths. (I let them out into the bigger yard when I grill, although I will not admit what it was that I was grilling last night...).

Drunken Chicken

There is a type of drunken chicken you get when you cook a chicken on top of a can of beer. I’m not really sure how that works, but I’ve read about it.

Then there is the type of drunken chicken you get when Millie goes on a bender. Yes, I got my chicken drunk yesterday. It was not my proudest moment.

Listen, here’s how it happened. We have a slug problem in the garden. Given that we’re not into poisoning the environment (not to mention the local birds and our chickens) with chemicals, we do not use slug bait. Instead, I set beer traps throughout the garden beds. The slugs are attracted to the yeasty brew, they slime their way into the low, beer-filled cups, and they get drunk and die happy.

I was working on the tedious project of repairing the raised garden beds yesterday and so I let the chickens out to roam freely in the yard. They absolutely love pecking around looking for bugs to eat. I looked up frequently to make sure the girls weren’t destroying any flowers or getting themselves into trouble. I was even paying special attention to make sure they didn’t linger near the beer traps. But after quite a while out there, I looked up and spotted Millie: she was not just lingering over a beer trap, not just pecking at the trap, but chugging beer like a freshman at a frat party.

I ran over and chased the girls to another part of the yard and went back to my project, but as soon as I sat down, I saw Millie walking purposefully toward the beer trap. I got there just as she was going in for another swig. This time, I chased her even farther into the yard, but as I walked back to my project, I kept a sharp eye on her. She set off at a full sprint toward the beer. At this point I gave up and corralled the girls back into their pen.

Needless to say, I was concerned about the effects of alcohol on a pre-adolescent chicken. From our observations, it seems that they are similar to the effects on humans. After a while, Millie was rolling around on the ground and flapping her legs and wings around in what seemed to be a really happy, if ungraceful, manner. She didn’t try to get up much, but when she did, she didn’t stay up long. Phyllis and Flo, who are used to following their fearless leader around in their regular pecking and scratching activities, sat with her for a while and looked really confused. Eventually they got bored and went back to pecking while Millie lolled around for the rest of the afternoon.

My name is Lorraine and my chicken is an alcoholic.

Savage Chickens: Drink Beer Cartoon

Top Chicken

I don’t have any new pictures to add today. Just a quick anecdote. Opening up the coop yesterday morning was pretty fun. When I opened the chicken door, I saw all three girls sitting in a row on their perch. Within a few seconds, they were dropping down like paratroopers. It was as if a sergeant was slapping them on the back yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” They each jumped down, one, two, three, and emerged onto their “porch.” Then, of course, the appearance of organization fell apart and they started running around like…well, I won’t use the obvious cliché here.