Animal House

If only this meeting had been about what to do when a predator infiltrates the coop.

RIP to a large percentage of the birds in the above photo. To make a gross story tasteful, we had a flock of ten hens Friday and at the time of my writing we have six. There are four less chickens in our yard, and two less bloodthirsty raccoons. Those pesky circle of life lessons sure sneak up on us. This particular lesson involved my innocent, bright-eyed daughter following her Daddy to put the remains in empty feed sacks. Maybe I should tack a GROSS WARNING here?

When the attacks came in the night two nights in a row, this bunch put on their CSI: Farm Life hats and set to work. {By this I definitely mean Googling What ate my chicken? again.}

Not only was the fence dug under {which could have been a number of southern varmints}, some of the fencing was literally pried open. We knew this bandit had fingers. There were crime scenes in both the run and the coop, including half-eaten eggs. We knew this bandit was more than a carnivore. There was also evidence of forceful removal from the coop and one chicken missing altogether. We knew this bandit was trying to make away with our birds.

Thankfully chicken herding is not an uncommon thing in this part of the world, so Jonathan called a neighbor to borrow a live trap and catch the perpetrator in the act. We set it with... wait for it... chicken fat from Sunday dinner, and when Jonathan went to check it in the middle of the night, there was one masked marauder in a tree, one in the trap, and one that barely got away.

Sunshine, Sophia, Chickaletta, and Rover have been avenged, but there's still a criminal lurking in the night. Jonathan plans to reinforce the coop's protective measures with hardware cloth and bricks buried underground, and to lock the girls into the coops every night. Hopefully the third cohort will be trapped tonight, or at least go home and tell his friends this chicken shop's closed.

Does this mean more baby chicks are in our future?
Were the raccoon triplets the only animals in on this scheme?
Did the chickens sacrifice the older, meaner ones on purpose?
Only time and further investigation will tell.
Tune in for the next episode of this chicken murder mystery to see who ends up behind bars.

---

On a less gruesome note, I have a second animal tale to spin today.

As you might have read last Friday, a kitten has adopted us. When she decided we might be okay people, she took to Owen first, and he fell for her hard. She can't come inside because Jonathan is allergic, but Owen understands.

He didn't exactly say he'd rather Daddy sleep on the porch than Baby Luna, but he didn't shoot down the idea, either.

She purrs happily while my son totes her around the yard. Any time he calls her name, she's there, weaving in and out of his boots hoping for a head scratch. She is also sweet on Nathan and Nora and eager to curl up in their laps. That is, until Owen comes along to tell them they're doing it wrong. Now that we have established contact and she has established a favorite {or maybe it's the other way around}, we are going to ask Owen to put her in a pet carrier for a good once-over by the vet... and maybe a more masculine name.

That's pretty much our weekend, folks. We had an exciting/frustrating time in the world of the furry and the feathered, so hopefully this week takes a turn for the less traumatic.

Here's to a boring Monday!

Chicken Gifts

I'm not talking about pint-sized presents for your flock, but I don't mean a 20-piece nugget, either.

This gift guide lies somewhere between, although I wouldn't turn down either of the above. Today's post is for those with a chicken enthusiast on your list, or those who need to pass along shopping ideas for your own poultry obsession. When searching the Internet to add ideas to my own wish list, I clicked into a world of amazing gifts for people who have a few too many feathered friends. Now, I'm sharing! If you're fretting over a last-minute gift for the backyard farmer in your life, here are a few fun ideas:

1. I have these boots. I love these boots. Anyone who has to walk through mud and/or poop daily will love them, too. They are made by Sloggers and super comfortable. They're also surprisingly easy to slip off when the contents on the bottom don't need to track through the kitchen. There is a cute cow print, too, if you're into that.
   
   
2. This is the first item I added to my Secret Santa wish list, and I 100% endorse it for yours. These are literally chicken fitness socks. You can run like a chicken. You can lift like a chicken. You can lie on the couch like a chicken, munching on popcorn and watching reruns. The possibilities are endless when it comes to chicken legs.
   
   
3. My heart skipped a beat the first time I saw this Barbie on Facebook. And again when three different friends sent it to me {they know me well}. She's not especially blonde, wears plaid, and has a chicken under her arm. She is the Barbie Farmer Career Fashion Doll. I'd imagine the goal of this doll line is to encourage young girls to shoot for their dreams, and this particular one is all my aspirations in a little plastic box. I'm getting close, right?
   
   
   
   
   
4. I have never watched Game of Thrones, but I'd wear this shirt. And also any other funny chicken-themed shirt. I'm not picky, honest.
   
   
5. For your friends who already have their backyard flock under control, I assume they have ample reading time. One of my favorite chicken mamas {I know how this makes me sound} writes the blog Fresh Eggs Daily. She recently released Gardening with Chickens. I'm already in it for the gorgeous photography, but if this book can teach me how my garden and my chickens can live together in harmony and not mass destruction, I'm sold.

We have 10 shopping days left until Christmas and if you're desperate for the perfect gift for your best friend, your mother-in-law, or your middle child who still has an empty present stash {oops}, I can't help you. However, you now have a game plan for anyone who lives for that first fresh egg. You're welcome.

This concludes one bizarre Thursday post. Have a great one, friends!

Got Eggs?

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, I pried myself from the couch and slipped on my chicken boots.

We spent Friday night and Saturday in central Arkansas with my in-laws, so we skipped the much-needed yard cleanup. After a morning of church and lunch at my parents' house, it was time. Jonathan approached the garden with shears in hand, and I brought my basket and trusty shovel to the hen house.

First I tossed a few cucumbers to the chickens and apologized for the lack of attention, then I went on an egg hunt. We grabbed them Friday afternoon, so this particular collection was only two days' worth. I was shocked to pull eight eggs out of the first nesting box. I was shocked to find seven more in another. I was further shocked that the golf ball decoy egg had been precariously placed on top of the real things {who knows what those chickens are doing}. Fifteen eggs wasn't half bad for two days.

Then I checked the smaller coop and pulled out five more.

Twenty eggs in two days from ten birds. Before this I wasn't sure whether all of our spring chicks were laying, but that find made it practically fact. A small part of me thinks Popcorn is an overachiever, but that's doubtful.

I don't know if they're just showing off or this cooler weather is making a difference, but those egg machines are rolling. They all have yet to figure out where they're supposed to lay, but they seem to have learned what comes out of them. Science!

Other chores revolved around pulling food out of the sad garden. It has rained for 40 days and 40 nights. I am wearing cardigans daily and I had the audacity to say it felt chilly this weekend. We are inching closer to fall, and my spring plants are feeling it. The brightest spot is the okra. We have already frozen a ton, and the two rows show no sign of stopping. I also used Sunday to pick a peck of pickling peppers. The ones we made last year turned out so tasty, we used the same method and got two pints.

Tomatoes still hang on the vine, bright red and ready to pick, but the leaf-footed bugs have created a force field around each one. I won't dare get close enough to touch them. Gross. Following is the game plan for my tomatoes at this point in time: let the bugs have them.

It's no big deal, though. No matter what the weather and our not-always-green thumbs do to the food growing in the yard, there will always and forevermore be scrambled eggs.

Happy Monday, y'all! Let me know if you need a dozen or three.

A Tale of Two Flocks

I know all of you are wondering how flock integration is going at the Bauer House.

And by "all of you," I mean my mom. Listen up, Mom, this one's for you. For those keeping score at home, there are 11 chickens living in my backyard and zero living in my house {Hallelujah!}. In my last chicken update, I showed you the coop Jonathan expertly put together to house the growing chicks, and recently we thought it would be a great idea to let them play with their feathered friends.

We did run into one slight snag, though: pure, unadulterated rage. I, um, forgot to factor that in.

The four laying hens were in heaven a few days before the great battle. Jonathan bought two fence panels to double the length of the run. There hasn't been much free ranging since the garden was planted, so they were thrilled to roam a square of grass. Then we had the audacity to cut a hole in the little coop.

{Elsa rules the roost... no, really.}
There were angry, guttural squawks from the big girls and eager advances from the little ones, then Elsa attacked. Queen Elsa, biggest chicken in the coop and the one with the least peck marks on her bright red comb, is really the only offending party. She will pin one to pluck a few feathers, then retreat. Then the small chickens get curious and it starts all over. While I do understand that this is how pecking order is established, and I do think brave little Beyonce is trying to climb it faster than she should, I don't want to babysit.

Enter the separation fence. We drew a line down the middle and prayed no one was brave enough to fly over enemy lines {Spoiler: It happened}. We made the fortress a little more impenetrable and they're good to just look at their neighbors for a while. Unfortunately, the little girls get to live where the grass is greener, so I've been generous with the strawberries and worms on the other side. Perhaps this arrangement will ease tensions.

Maybe I should build a separation fence in the boys' room?

{Note in the middle photo the look of terror on the hen who jumped the fence alone.}
Honestly I have no idea what's going to happen, but there it is. Since chicken chat is all I have today, refer back to the top of this post and enjoy the photo of Nora attempting to keep the peace. She is certain the little chickens love her because they nip at her dress through the fencing. Love at first peck? You decide.

Happy Monday, friends! Grab a burger, thank the troops, and enjoy the fresh air with family and friends.
Make it a great one, y'all.

Bye Bye, Birdies

I think we can both agree the birds shown above are not chicks. They are chickens.

With the onslaught of exciting new job tasks that did not come with an increase of hours per day, we've been behind on coop building. We decided the new batch of birds would get a smaller, grow-out coop before we integrated everyone, but it appears they did their growing out in my kitchen. Regardless, Jonathan and his helpers worked hard to get this thing built and there are now zero birds in my house. The only poop you'll smell when you visit is coming from my daughter and I don't think Nora's ready for coop training yet.

Armed with a truck full of wood, a head full of plans, and a pajama-clad son, Jonathan set to work. Obviously he still needs to provide a chicken exit and ramp combo. I'll give you a full tour when it's done, but for now they are locked inside. This teaches them where to go when the sun sets or when danger approaches {we need them smarter than their deceased predecessors}. Plus, it's roomier than the cardboard box of shame and IT'S NOT IN MY HOUSE.

These girls will be eight weeks old on Sunday. Let the record show this is entirely too long for chickens to be in one's home. The Buff Orpingtons are a bright shade of gold and fluff up to twice their size when the warm sunlight hits them. The three Wyandottes have proven to be the silver-laced variety, not the gold I ordered. They will be beautiful, though, so I don't mind the mix-up. As for the big girls, they are oblivious. The most confrontation I've seen is a slight cock of the head and a return to strawberry stealing. All is well with our feathered friends, and I like the new crew better now that they've been evicted. My heart will grow fonder when they start laying eggs. Pets work around here, y'all.

The moral of this post is: Praise the Lord, there aren't any chickens in my house. However, I put the chick warmer somewhere safe and I've been eyeing these gorgeous Lavender Orpingtons. When I enter Chick Mode 2017, please remind me of two things: order less and kick 'em out early. Have a great weekend!

Chicken Check-In

Someone on the radio said it's National Pet Day, so I think it's time to trot out my house chickens.

These seven little fuzzballs have been living in my house for about five weeks, and let me tell you, the charm is wearing off. They're still cute birds who will eventually pay me back in breakfast food, but things are different in Chicken Year Two. I've been giving more attention to the big girls who live outside, keep to themselves, and lay eggs without assistance. The house chickens are growing at record speed and pooping even faster. Keeping up with them is more involved than I remember, but this little squad will soon upgrade to the backyard.

As a matter of fact, we've already started introducing them. On a few warm afternoons in recent weeks, we have set up a chicken wire circle and let the babies do a little exploring. I can guarantee you they're much happier eating grass than hanging out in their cardboard kitchen prison.

The kids love watching them stretch their feathers and test their flying skills, and these babies can play a mean game of leap chicken. I will admit it's neat watching them grow so quickly {even if they do stink}. At this point they're roosting like pros, climbing on the feeder, and grabbing any opportunity for escape. It's becoming a common occurrence to hear, "Beyonce! What are you doing on there?!"

Maybe I do have a soft spot for some of these noisy creatures {looking at you, Lemon}, but for those of you eyeing the precious puff balls at your local farm store, why don't you take a peek at the following questionnaire to see whether you're up for becoming a chicken mama:

1. Are you okay with small chickens living in your house?
2. Are you okay with noises that range from angelic peeping to knock-down, drag-out scuffles in the pine shavings?
3. Are you okay with poop?
4. Are you okay with teaching your children not to eat chick food?

If you agree to at least 3/4 of the above list, congratulations, you have what it takes! For those of you who have already bitten the bullet this year, are your babies still inside or have you kicked them to the coop already? I'm waiting on warmer nights {and a bit more coop construction}, but hopefully these girls will join their bigger buddies before long.

Hope Monday is treating you well!

Spring Chickens

Sure signs spring is around the corner: there are boots by the door, seeds on the counter, and chickens in the kitchen.

Allow me to to introduce you to the newest members of the Bauer Bunch. Wearing springtime yellow are Sunshine, Lemon, Popcorn, and Hobby Pig {see Owen's birthday post}. The fabulously stylish girls in stripes are Cinderella, Beyonce, and Sofia the Second.

Yes, I have once again invited livestock into my house. But really, look at them. I ordered from Cackle Hatchery again and was pleased with their small order shipping. Our new breeds are Buff Orpingtons and Wyandottes. Seven baby girls plus four big girls who won't know what to think when I show them their new friends.

If you've been reading closely, you'll know I started with six chickens last year. Sadly, we learned a lesson in free ranging. We decided the girls were happier when they were able to explore the yard, dig in the garden, and eat whatever they could find. That is, until something ate two of them. It was either a skunk or an armadillo because both met the business end of a gun the night after the crime. However, the flock carried on. The warmer weather has them all laying again, and they seem happy to me. For the curious, the remaining crew are Nugget, Rover, Elsa, and Chickaletta. After a night of tearful grieving, Owen decided his favorites survived. It worked for me.

Back to the babies. I can say with certainty that I'm not nearly as obsessive about these fluff balls as the first time around, but there's a bigger fish to fry. And it's Nora. On Day One she was caught tossing candy and shopkins into the brooder saying, "Guess what, baby chickens, I have a surprise!" She'll also ask me in a very suspicious manner to turn around and assure me she will not touch a chicken. I can't imagine the terror these chicks feel when a gigantic head with even bigger hair is constantly hovering. She posts up in a chair and tells them about her day. She begs to hold one. She squeals and smiles and loves them more each day.

Jonathan keeps making a comparison to Of Mice and Men, but I digress.

The boys are smitten as well, and they'll be in the egg business when these girls start cranking. We look forward to the day they move to the coop, but I enjoy watching them grow for now. As long as Nora doesn't start feeding them table scraps, this household of 12 will be just fine.

Twelve?!

Are you starting or growing a flock this year? Are you impressed by my family's chicken naming skills? Are you curious as to whether chickens like Sweet Tarts? Jump in the comments for chicken chat. It's fun, I promise.

Free Range

We had ourselves a mighty fine chicken adventure this weekend.

With the summer garden season screeching to a halt and leaving in its wake dead plants, weeds, and plenty of debris, we thought the chickens might enjoy a trip to the buffet. As you may notice in the photos below, they have completely decimated the grass in their yard, so it's nice to get a little green in their diet every now and then. When we open the hatches and let the chickens fly, I always get a nervous feeling that we'll be standing beneath the trees they've roosted in or chasing them down highways or through cow pastures. Thankfully, they seem to like us okay. Either that or they're too busy chowing down on fresh grass to run away.

With all this chicken wrangling help, though, the girls didn't quite make it to the garden. I think both the free-ranging chicks and the free-ranging kids had a good time regardless:

The girls are still happily laying and the eggs seem to be getting a bit bigger every day. This half-dozen was laid in one morning, so you can imagine how our egg surplus is growing. I ordered personalized carton stickers from Etsy the other day. Soon, we will officially be in the egg sales business. Stay tuned... or don't, really, just let me know now if you live in my area and need some delicious farm-fresh eggs. My sales girl is pretty cute:

The photo above might have been the best one snapped all afternoon. While we are happy that these birds keep their cool at play time, the one thing the kids don't like is when the chickens get spooked and start flapping. Thankfully, Nathan and Nora were too busy cheesing to know what was going on behind them. {I think it had to do with what was happening to their right.}

These pets may not sit and stay like your standard puppy dog, but this flock is still fun. Plus, free eggs! Happy Monday, y'all.

Coop Tour

How about we take a little tour around the coop?

It's no poultry palace, but I bet my friend P. Allen would be mighty proud of this craftsmanship. As I said in my last chicken update, the girls moved out once the weather was warm enough and Jonathan got the urge to put hammer to nail. This is no mail-order chicken house. This is the result of planning, a trip {or two} to the hardware store, and several afternoons of hard work. You know, measure twice and cut once and all that jazz.

I love this finished product and in case you ever get a wild hair and want to start raising farm fresh breakfast of your own, this is a pretty good way to go about it. While I have no blueprints and can't say much about the building process, I can say the chickens navigate it just fine. It does have four walls, a floor, a roof, and four windows to allow as much air flow as possible {which is highly necessary, if you catch what I'm throwing}. It also has a full-sized people door with a critter-proof lock and a tiny door to allow the stretching of chicken legs.

The inside, however, is the best part. He made three small roosts for bedtime, and the girls used their pecking order to find their spots {poor Nugget is not allowed on top}. Once they started laying, Jonathan added three nesting boxes. We filled each with straw and one golf ball apiece and it didn't take long for them to stop laying on the floor and fluff up their nests. I've never seen two chickens in one at the same time, but there's always four eggs in the back box. One day I'll catch them sharing, I just know it.

Jonathan also crafted a PVC pipe feeder that eliminates daily feeding {unless they deserve a treat or a cucumber or something}. That's come in handy for our weekends away. He's also installed a small fan to cool things down and I am pleased to say all six chickens made it through their first Arkansas summer unscathed.

Their "run" is simply a dog pen. He cut a hole in the fencing to allow for their pop door to open up so they can come and go and lay and play as they please {until the boss chicken tells them it's bedtime}. Our little cousin Riley {age 13} was hanging out with us during construction. Slightly bored, he decided to grab a few planks, a couple branches, and crafted that sweet chicken playground. Other than that, their yard has all the grit and dirt their little hearts desire. Plus some empty buckets, shovels and rakes, and chicken-watchin' chairs for ambiance.

There you have it folks! Best seat in the house to lay an egg if you ask me.

Have you ever thought about raising chickens? They take a little work but I bet no dog has ever given you breakfast. If you can refute that claim, that's a story I need to hear immediately. Happy Monday!

Eggcellent!

{Yes, you laughed at the title. I heard you. It's okay, it's funny.}
We haven't talked chickens in a while, have we?

I think the last time we checked in, the girls had just moved into the backyard. Things have changed a bit since then. I'm no math expert, but dog years don't hold a candle to chicken years. They hatched on February 22, for crying out loud. Now they're enormous birds with big, bright red combs, gorgeous flowing tail feathers, and eggs. Eggs!

We found the first egg on the coop floor the day of Nora's Peppa party. I am not going to lie, I squealed. The girls were just shy of 20 weeks, but they were right on the mark for laying. I left that cute little egg right on a pile of pine shavings and chicken poop and had the whole family sprint across the yard to see it. It was hard not to check for more eggs every half hour {and by that I do mean I checked for more eggs every half hour}. We continued to get an egg a day for a little while, and then apparently the rest of the sisters caught on. Jonathan built three nice nesting boxes, encouraged the girls to use them with egg decoys {golf balls}, and production picked up. Right now we are getting 5-6 eggs per day. They're small, they're brown, and they're tasty.

At the rate of more than two dozen eggs a week, we started sharing the wealth. Owen, who happens to be the best farmhand I know, was happy to bring some to his day care teacher, who in turn gave him a handful of quarters. He was so thrilled with his payment that he makes a beeline for the coop every afternoon - boots on feet, basket in hand. Even though we've been picking up eggs for a few weeks now, I still can't past the excitement. They're morning layers so they're usually done in the early afternoon. However, sometimes we catch a late girl and I have to convince Owen to leave her alone.

If it weren't 100 degrees in the shade, I imagine he'd post up in a lawn chair until she finished.

I still can't tell any of the girls apart, other than my sweet little black-necked Nugget, and I'm far from letting them climb onto my shoulder and kiss my cheek, but we get along for the most part. I shovel their poop, give them feed and veggie scraps, and they make sure my family and friends are ready for breakfast. It's not too shabby of a setup. In the world of chicken farming, the bunch is still learning, but we have come a long way from the little peeps we drove home in the snow five months ago.

I'll be back with an update on my fine feathered friends and maybe even a tour around their place, but in the meantime, does anyone need eggs? I know a {little} guy.

Chicken Run

It used to feel odd when words like "harvest" and "cultivar" would roll off my tongue.

Now I'm picking up weird phrases like "coop training." I am proud to announce that chickens no longer live in my kitchen! If I complain about chicken smells permeating throughout my home, it's because of an extra-garlicky dinner. Yes, the girls have been living it up in a little red barn.

They've been out there a week, and we've mostly kept them confined. Maybe it's a little rude to keep them locked up, but it's better than a cardboard box, right? We're not quite finished with the coop building, there's still another door and window to cut and nesting boxes to build, but it's perfect for now. Throughout this coop training, however, we have occasionally let them out to peck the grass.

A few days ago, the bunch and I were gathered in the living room as the chickens enjoyed some late afternoon sunshine. Jonathan peeked through the glass doors and happened to notice just a couple chickens walking around. Maybe the others were laying down? Being blocked by their sisters? As he opened the door to check it out, those two scurried out of the open fence door.

Jonathan exclaimed: "I didn't leave it open!" Owen piped up: "I didn't leave it open! It was the wind. I saw it." Do you want to try to crack that case?

I asked Nathan to lace up his sneakers because we had free range chickens on our hands. I didn't figure they found the highway, but we worried they were somewhere annoying, like beneath the shed or in the cow pasture opposite a barbed wire fence. Ugh. Off we ran, clucking away {because they no longer peep}, looking for our lost and wandering hens.

My first instinct was the brush back behind the coop so I started in that direction. As I walked past the open coop door, however, something caught my eye. All missing chickens were in there. Some were snuggled together sunbathing in a small slant of light. A few more were eating and one was just looking at me like I was crazy. I exhaled. Good girls.

Coop Training Status: Success.

Although the fuzzball stage of chicken rearing was fun, I think the outside stage is even better. I'm so impressed by the work Jonathan did on the coop, and it appears the chickens are, too. They're officially home sweet home, and the finishing touches will be added in no time. Hopefully by this fall, the rent eggs will start rolling in.

From Chick to Chicken

I have had chickens in my kitchen for six weeks now.

Sure, their feed is labeled "chick" and they aren't fully feathered, but these birds are officially chickens. They have grown from fuzzballs to legitimate birds in record speed and it's been incredible to watch. We didn't really know what we were getting into when we ordered these winged pets, but it's been fun so far. They're very personable and don't mind being held, which makes them a perfect fit for the Bauer Bunch.

Not too long ago we were chatting about how boring life must be in a cardboard box. The chickens are past the point of needing extra warmth, so we gave them a taste of the great outdoors. Once we coaxed them out of the box, instincts kicked in. They pecked at the ground, they pulled weeds, they flew onto strategically located branches and roosted like it was nobody's business.

The best part about this adventure has been learning alongside the kids. Nathan is officially my right-hand man in the chicken farming business. He was scooping up chickens, carrying them around, and whispering sweet nothings in their ears. Owen wasn't afraid to get into the pen and watch them play, but his request was simple: "Do NOT touch me, chickens! But you can sit on my shoe."

As long as we're calm, they jump into our laps and nestle in. My kind of chicken, honestly. Hopefully they keep these personalities - and hopefully none of the girls turn out to be boys. From what I've read, we won't know 'til they crow. I'll let you know with a "rooster free to a good home" sign, but I'll admit I'm starting to get attached:

As for little Nora's interactions with the chickens, let's just say farm living is the life for her. This one is scared of most dogs and cats, but you wouldn't know it as she sat encircled by chickens. They zoomed past her head and she laughed. If one came close, her little hand would reach out and grab feathers. The girls didn't mind a bit, and I'm happy that Nora is comfortable with them.

There for a while I could tell two of the chickens apart. Nugget was our runt stuck on the bottom of the pecking order, and that order was dominated by Elsa {naturally} who claimed her spot on top of the feeder. That was about a month ago, though, and they've since evened out. Maybe once they get outside we can pick up on personalities. Hopefully they'll make the move within the next week or so. Here's the coop today:

With help like that, I guarantee it will be done in no time.

Do you have any amazing plans for the weekend? Whether your schedule is jam-packed or you're looking forward to a take-it-easy Saturday, pencil in some Vitamin D. Get outside, soak up the sun, and get dirty. Happy Friday, y'all!