Prairie Points

Friday, June 22, 2012

chicks and pieces, or chicks in pieces...

Just a short update on my beautiful Buff Orpington hen, Opal. She went broody a couple of weeks ago, and a kind neighbor lady brought over some fertilized eggs for her to sit on.  Opal really wants to be a mommy.  We started out with a dozen eggs, but that was too many for her to gather under her tummy.  There were always a few that were off to the side, so I went ahead and used up three of the eggs for the girls.  One other egg broke in the nest somehow, and poor Opal had to pick sticky stuff off her breast feathers. Sticky, stinky stuff. So we were down to 8 eggs in the nest. I was curious and wanted to try my hand at candling again. I'm here to tell you that I am a major failure at that. In more ways than one. I was trying to balance the egg while shining a flashlight from behind, and the egg dropped. It broke. Yes there was a chick embryo in there. I felt so bad, again. (See former blog post...Sheesh!!) Anyway, we are down to 7 eggs.  I'm not sure how long it takes for a chick to hatch, but it should be happening soon, I would think. Opal goes out in the yard once in a while, but spends the majority of her time just sitting on those eggs.
Her comb is pale, and she is very happy to drink lots of water once she's outside, but she really wants those babies. You can betcha I'll be posting pics when the blessed events occur. Blessings,
Brenda

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Culinary conundrum.

Today was just one of those days where there was nothing pressing or urgent to attend to, so I didn't. I'm still recovering from the trauma of last week's events (see my last blog post).  I do have a mountain of beets to process and was needing some vinegar and assorted spices, so we took a trip to Rural King. I love that store. I could wander around the food aisles forever. While DH was shopping for all the boring stuff, I entertained myself by finding unique culinary offerings. I actually bought these:
Sorry about the sideways pic.
Each little plastic straw is filled with flavored beads, either chocolote or strawberry. Each end of the plastic straw is pinched close, but has tiny holes. The idea is to suck the milk through the straw and the beads melt and add flavor to the milk as you slurp it. I had about 6 oz. of milk and was very disappointed in the result. The milk was long gone by the time any flavor was apparent. I finally took scissors, snipped off the end, and smushed the mushy beads into my mouth. The flavor is good, just not fast enough.I probably did it wrong, though. Probably any two year old would get good results.  I also bought:
Just the sweet corn flavored chips. I ripped those babies open as soon as we got home. The consensus was divided. I thought they were good, but then I hardly ever buy chips so I'm like a thirsty drunk  licking his lips when he sees a bottle of whiskey when they are around. Oh, boy!! Chips!!  DH thought they were terrible, but then he doesn't like cinnamon or garlic, either, so he can't be trusted. Just for orneriness, I just about bought this, but read the list of ingredients and decided I could make it cheaper:
This is mostly raspberries with some spices.
I saved the best for last. Who wouldn't want to dig into these babies?
So, there is just no excuse for being  bored.  If you find yourself in a blah funk, take a short drive to your local Rural King store and browse the food aisles.  Take a picky eater with you, just for fun. haha. A few teenagers would make it supremely enjoyable.  Turkey Gizzards....it's what's for dinner. NOT!
Blessings,
Brenda    

Monday, June 18, 2012

Oh what a week.

Sorry for the sideways picture. Tilt your head to the right to see how it really looks. I'm traumatized.
There is only one  picture in this post, because my hands are still shaking and I think I developed carpal tunnel in my hands and elbows and left shoulder from all the events of this last week.  Let me begin with last Monday. DS had the day off from work and hadn't yet begun his research job at the university (yay for research grants for college kids!!), so the plan was for hubby and I to go over to DS and wife's new country house (the house isn't new, just new to them),  and start building a chicken/duck pen. It isn't a coop, it's an enclosure in an already existing outbuilding. It sounded so simple, and for anybody with a thimble-full of experience, it should have been an easy task. For rank amateurs such as ourselves, not so much. But we were full of optimism. The ducks needed to be out of the city house garage, like yesterday. Soooooo, we began. Monday came and went and we had made some progress, but had much more to do. Tuesday found DH and I back over there, but this time our daughter-in-law was helping out. The morning went well, but halfway through the afternoon, I stuck a rusty screwdriver in her eye. Let me repeat that.  I STUCK A RUSTY SCREWDRIVER IN HER EYE!!!!!!!!!!   My advice to anyone reading this is to never do this to anyone. First order of business is to wear safety glasses. Good grief, why didn't we have those on??? It happened innocently enough and so darn fast. I was pulling on the bottom half of the top section of hardware cloth, and she was below me, fastening the top part of the bottom section to the 2x4 that ran horizontally through the middle. The screwdriver slipped out and hit her in the eye. Of course immediately she clutched at her eye, and within just a few seconds, I knew we had to skedaddle and get it taken care of.  THANK GOD my brother-in-law is an opthalmologist.  After a brief stop at the local clinic, we went on up to Decatur and found him at home, trying to relax after a stressful day of surgery. He met us at the office, and with a couple of other staff members, he sewed up her conjunctiva and determined there was no puncture wound, just a surface scrape. HE CLEANED THE DEBRIS FROM THE RUSTY SCREWDRIVER OUT OF HER EYE. (I'm trembling as I type this...if you're going to stick a screwdriver in anyone's eye, for God's sake, make sure it's a new one).  She was given some drops while there, and a pressure patch to wear for 24 hrs.  Wednesday we went back up to a not-so-Express Care facility so she could get a tetanus shot. We waited over 90 minutes for that to happen. We had a prescription for eyedrops to get filled, but of course Walgreen's was out of them. Our local pharmacy could have them first thing in the morning, which would be Thursday, so that was good enough, since the eye patch didn't come off until Wednesday night. In-between running around, we kept on building the enclosure. Thursday, we were back over there, eyedrops in hand, and the eye was looking better. The enclosure was far enough along that she and I made the trip back to the city house to get the critters. They were happy to have fresh air, fresh water, and lots of running space.  Friday found us back in Decatur for a follow-up eye appointment. The Dr. said the eye looked great.  It could have been so much worse. I am so very thankful it wasn't.  We are finished with the enclosure, too. It isn't a work of art, but it's built like a fortress to keep predators at bay. I forgot to mention the half day it took to make a ready-made door fit the opening we'd allowed. I'm thinking white paint might make things look nicer.

Now, after all this, let's bake some bread, cakes, and cookies for Farmer's Market and the church bake sale. Whew!! 

I think I need some B vitamins. Just sayin'.
Blessings, blessed, giving thanks, and more,
Brenda




Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Ricky, Reuben, Randy, or not.

It seems my rooster problem has solved itself. Not that I had a rooster problem, per se, but my dilemna over whether or not I should get one, with the girls all grown up now was weighing on my mind. I had two banty chicks in my basement chick nursery, waiting on DS and DDIL to get moved and their chicken enclosure built (which we are working on and that's why I've been MIA from the blog). Anyway, one day DS was visiting the chicks, and we heard the most peculiar noise coming from one of them. It turns out one of them is a rooster. He's beautiful and so tiny and so sweet. When I say he crows, that is being generous. He hasn't found his big-boy voice yet and it's comical. It sounds like the sounds get stuck in his throat and abbreviated.  It reminded me of a growing boy going through puberty and how sometimes his voice will "crack" and how he intended to sound isn't how he sounded at all.  This little guy will get there, too. So far the chickens, including the new americaunas and his little banty sister, just sort of look at him and think, "yeah, right. In your dreams."  DS says they don't want a rooster right now, so I'm keeping him. He is precious:
He's not even half the size of the big girls.  He also isn't very loud, which is a good thing. I don't think he'll be annoying at 4:00 a.m., when he decides the whole world should be awake.  The little guy doesn't have a name yet, however, and that's where you come in. Either on this blog, or on FB, let me know what you think his name should be.  Get creative. The winner, which will be announced someday (hahaha...ok...I'm REALLY busy right now), will receive a dozen eggs, which might take a while to accumulate, since back on the nest:

Opal is still sitting on eggs. I tried to candle them, but was pathetic and couldn't discern whether they are fertilized or not. A kind, generous chicken/rooster owning neighbor brought a dozen eggs for me to use for Opal.  I'm hoping some of them hatch. The other problem I have is that I didn't think to mark these before putting them under her, and when Opal is out eating and drinking, other hens sneak in there and lay eggs. One day I counted 14 eggs, instead of the 12 that should have been there.  Also, one of the eggs was broken, and that is nasty. So, I got all but 8 eggs out of the nest, used a red sharpy pen to mark the remaining eggs, and now I can collect the unmarked, unfertilized eggs from there.  It's a more manageable amount for her to sit on, too.  I don't know if any chicks will hatch, but if it's possible for that to happen, it won't be because sweet Opal didn't try.  Out of 9 laying hens, I'm lucky to get 4 or 5 a day.

That's what's going on around here. Mowing, cleaning, gardening, chicken-keeping, chicken coop building, and just general busy-ness. 

Blessings,
Brenda

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Opal's gone broody.

Opal is my favorite chicken. She is the most docile, sweetest thing ever. She lets me pick her up with no protest, and talk to and cuddle her. Opal would be an awesome chicken mom, too, and she wants to be. She wants to be so badly that she has decided she is going to be a mom.  Opal can't be a mom. Oh, she CAN be a mom, meaning all her chicken parts are ok, but to be a chicken mom is sort of like being a human mom. There needs to be a chicken dad and we don't have one. Opal has decided to just park her fluffy butt in one of the nesting boxes, where the hens lay their eggs, and just sit there, as if she had a clutch of eggs under her. There are NO eggs under her, because a broody hen doesn't lay eggs. Not until the chicks have hatched out. They lay a cluster of eggs and then stop while they sit on them until the chicks hatch. Opal doesn't realize there are no eggs.  Her chicken brain told her it was time to sit on eggs, and sit she is:
She sits there day and night. Last night I waited until just a bit after dark and moved her over to the roost, hoping that with bad night vision she wouldn't hop down and resume sitting in the box. I thought this would break her of wanting to brood, but apparently it didn't. I lift her out of the box and take her out to the yard, so she can get a drink, eat and get some exercise. She terrorizes the other chickens when they get close and this just isn't my sweet Opal. She preens excessively, fluffs up, spreads her wings and puffs up like a turkey, and just generally becomes a little chicken witch. This has to stop. I've read that putting ice cubes under her might cool her off and become so uncomfortable that it isn't worth it, and also giving her a cool chicken bath, especially on 'THAT PART', would cool her off and get her out of the mood, but none of these ideas are sure-fire fixes for what's ailing her. I'm thinking the next step might be:

Not a rooster light, silly, a REAL rooster.  I have wrestled with rooster resistance (hahahaha), but my girls are all grown up and maybe it's time. Mother Nature and all that. If I get one we'll have a naming contest. The winner gets a dozen eggs.  I know roosters can be trouble;. maybe more trouble than a broody hen.
This is my dear Opal, just this morning, after I carried her to the yard. She's worried about her phantom "babies".

Poor Opal. She's just beside herself these days.

 Oh, dear. Decisions, decisions. Now excuse me while I go raid the ice cube stash.
Bok, bok, squawk blessings,
Brenda