Yesterday I took Opal, the Delaware, to her first school visit. She’s the largest hen that I’ve ever brought, but Opal is so easy-going, and she talks in  such happy low chortles when meeting the children, that she wasn’t at all intimidating, even though many of the kindergartners had never before seen a chicken up close. When we came back home, Opal deserved a bit of free-ranging in the meadow.

This corner of the yard is planted with native wildflowers and it is just coming into bloom. For the last half-dozen years, I’ve nursed it along. I’ve weeded out the invasive buckthorn and removed brambles. I thought I knew what was there. But, I don’t recall seeing this flower. I don’t remember planting it.

Does anyone know what this is?

It’s ever so pretty. There’s a few blooming underneath the peach tree, too.

I’m delighted to see it, whatever it is. I love these surprises in the garden.

Early on, I knew that I’d be keeping one of the Cuckoo Marans, and also the dark Blue Andalusian. The Andalusian is an inquisitive and bold chicken. She’s a tad too fast on her feet and flighty for the nursing home, but I have a soft spot for curious and out-going chickens, and I love the look of her grey feathers. Of the two Marans, one was obviously the calmer and friendlier, and I tagged her quickly as a nursing home hen, but her sister is a nice bird, and her eggs will be dark chocolate in color (alas, not truly chocolate inside) so I’ve decided to add her to my flock as well.

Cuckoo Maran and Blue Adalusian, 8 weeks

The other Andalusian female is light grey. It’s not exactly what is termed “splash,” but more of a pale wash. Neither of the two Andalusians have plumage that is show quality. The dark one has white splotches on her face and the light one is too white. But, they’re active, they get along well with each other and others, and they look quite pretty together. I’ve decided to keep both.

Blue Andalusians, 8 weeks

The third Andalusian in the box of chicks turned out to be a boy.

Mr. Grumpy has a quiet temperament. Although there is no bullying in the flock, he does appear, well, hen-pecked. Subdued. He’s easy to handle and, as of yet, no trouble. But he never, ever looks cheerful. He’s not of show quality, but has no defects, either. He would be a good addition to a backyard free-ranging flock that needs a rooster to warn the girls of danger. There’s no place here for him, and in truth, there are few places for roosters anywhere. Even if everyone who kept backyard chickens kept roos, only one boy should be housed with every ten hens. Since half of all eggs hatched are male, there’s obviously a huge disparity between available homes and the quantity of roosters. Many male chicks are killed right after hatching and others are destined for slaughter by 14 weeks of age. This is the hard truth of keeping backyard chickens. I know that this upsets many of my readers, but I am okay with it. I’m not a vegetarian. I believe there’s a place for humanely raised meat on the table. I buy beef, pork and chicken from farmers in nearby towns. If Mr. Grumpy was a different breed, I might even keep him awhile longer and harvest him for soup. I’ve never had to do that, but I would. However, Andalusians are scrawny, and no amount of feeding will give him heft. Processing a chicken is messy and unpleasant work. I’d rather not do it, especially when there’s so little to gain.

I have one more week to find him a home. Any takers? I’m willing to sell the light Andalusian to go with him as a breeding pair. If I can’t find him a place, there’s a poultry dealer in the next town over that takes roosters in for resale. With any luck, Mr. Grumpy will find a flock of his own. If not, he’s already lived a better life than most cockerels.

Meanwhile, now that I’ve decided which pullets to keep, I need to come up with names. Any suggestions for the two Andalusians and the Cuckoo Maran?

The Little Pond is where the Beast and her minions live. Often, man-made water features require maintenance and chemicals to keep the water clear. Not mine. Here the water is naturally filtered through four feet of gravel at the back of the big rock, which is then pumped up through the hole in the boulder and pours into the koi’s pool. When it was installed, I was told to fill the gravel area with water plants, as that would mimic a natural wetland’s cleansing system.

I put in a number of plants, many of which died, and a few, for some unknown reason to me, but that made much sense to Lily Dog, required removing. She pulled them out and shredded them. However, Lily left the water celery alone and it took off. Koi eat it, so the fish’s area stays clear, but by mid-summer the roots become too tangled and the foliage too thick, and it actually traps sediment instead of removing it. Over the years I’ve pulled it up, but the water celery comes back stronger and fuller.

This year I have a new tactic. It’s not only the Beast that likes to eat it.

I’ve been taking the goats over to the pond and letting them graze.

The boys are knee-deep in goat heaven.

They don’t know they’re working. Let’s not tell them.

The other day I let the Gems out on the lawn. I noticed that Ruby did not look right. She was huffed up and her wing feathers drooped down.

As I watched, she became more distressed.

And then the reason for her extreme discomfort became obvious. She laid an egg with a shell that was soft like a thin balloon. A hard and smooth egg slips right out of the hen’s vent, but it is quite difficult to push one out that is rough, squishy and pliant.

Once out, that soft-shelled egg is easy to eat – which Ruby turned around to do. I didn’t want her to eat that egg, because once a hen learns that her eggs are edible, it is the beginning of a bad habit, one in which she breaks even the hard-shelled eggs in order to eat them. I snatched the egg away from her.

Without the egg in front of her, and with the relief of no longer straining to lay, she went off to forage with the other hens.

Why do hens lay these soft-shelled eggs? Elderly hens, like Twinkydink, lay thin-shelled eggs. That’s because their systems are depleted of calcium, and their old bodies, even when fed the right foods, can no longer form a thick shell. That’s different than the membrane-enclosed egg that Ruby laid.

It takes about twenty-six hours for a hen to build an egg in her reproductive tract. Laying on the shell takes a big chunk of that time. If the hen is stressed and the process is interrupted, the shell can be thin or rubbery. It’s something to consider when you find a soft-shelled egg, but usually, the cause of those odd eggs is poor nutrition.

My hens get laying hen pellets that contain calcium, and also have oyster shell free choice. I provide her with granite grit so that she can grind up and digest this food. A two-year old hen, like Ruby, should be able to get all of the minerals she needs from such a diet, and lay sturdy eggs. She usually does. But, the other day I had a big bowl of leftover spaghetti. Divided between the ten Gems (and Siouxsie) it should have made a fine treat. However, I believe that Ruby, being a gluttonous Rhode Island Red, ate more than her share, which upset her fine-tuned nutritional balance, and she didn’t have the necessary materials to make a normal eggshell.

The day after laying this “rubber” egg, Ruby laid a thin-shelled egg in the nesting box. Since then, all of the eggs that I’ve collected from the Gems have looked normal. I believe that Ruby is laying thick-shelled eggs again, but since I’m not outside all of the time, I’m not 100% sure. I haven’t seen any egg eating, so that’s a relief.

The Gems won’t be getting spaghetti anytime soon.

What with twenty-six teenage chickens and four Old Hens, the Little Barn was getting crowded.

It was getting crowded around the feeder.

There wasn’t enough room on the outside roost for a quiet nap.

At bedtime, the inside roost was filled and the Old Hens found their comfortable routine disturbed. (There’s Twinkydink, on the third bar up, being squeezed off of HER spot.)

The personalities of the new birds emerged, and it was clear to me which ones were right for the nursing home, and which would be going to another home, and which would stay here.

Dominique at 7 weeks

At nearly eight weeks of age, the chicks were fully feathered out and no longer needed the heat lamp or the confines of the brooder. It was time for half of them to go. A friend who lives two miles up the road has a flock of hens and a daughter with an egg business. She needed more layers. So, Ken came over yesterday and bought thirteen of the chicks. He knows what he’s doing, and they’ve already settled right in.

Meanwhile, I had a brooder to disassemble. As I’ve mentioned before, chicks create a fine dust of manure, bedding and feather dander. This is why you don’t want the chicks in your kitchen. I’ve swept the dust off of the feed can several times already, but look at it.

I donned a mask. Trust me, you don’t want to sweep and clean and breath this stuff in.

The fun and charm of having chicks in a brooder last less than a month;  the previous couple of weeks I was itching (literally) to reclaim my barn. It was so good to get the coop back in order. After I cleaned, Steve moved the cam back into the coop, so InsideCam is once again online.

Now there are twelve pullets (and one cockerel) and four Old Girls in the Little Barn. In one week, half of those youngsters are going to live at the nursing home. I’ll keep six. One way or another, Mr. Grumpy will be gone.

Twinkydink can’t wait. Betsy and Edwina are relieved.

But, I do think that Buffy enjoyed the hubbub. And the chick food.