The bunny and the goat are friends. To get there, there’s been some sorting out to do. Goat friends butt heads. Rabbits don’t. The first time that Candy got to hop around the goat paddock, she went up to Pip. They pressed foreheads. This is a goat “hello” but not a way that rabbits greet. I was amazed to see Candy use this body language. Goat friends prance and bang heads. Rabbits don’t. Pip thought about it, then restrained himself. Remarkable for a goat who is better known for pushy exuberance.

Another thing that goats do, is they explore their world by taste. This is partly why they have a reputation for eating everything. If it’s there, if it’s interesting, it goes in their mouths. Not unlike human toddlers. Candy and Pip were next to each other. A quiet, companionable moment. Then Pip reached down, and nibbled Candy’s ear. Soon, a big part of the ear was in his mouth. The next moment, Candy was hanging in the air – Pip had picked her right up by the ear! This was NOT acceptable bunny behavior. Candy growled. Yes, rabbits growl. Pip dropped her. Candy shook herself and hopped away. Well, if goats play like that, I’m not interested. Pip was left, sticking his tongue out, trying to get the rabbit fur off. It was not a game either will repeat.

However, they still like to press heads and sniff noses.

If only world peace were so easy.

My birthday is next week. November 17th. I’ll be 51 years old (why do people get all coy about their ages?) My husband asked me what I want. He wasn’t thinking of more animals, but, of course, I am.  Although I’d love a burro, a couple of horses, and two Pilgrim geese, I won’t ask for them. The barns are full. But I could fit one of these in the house.

I owned a hedgehog a few years ago. Bought it at a poultry show (you never know what you’ll come home with!) It was adorable. But also nocturnal. Very noisy play at night. And quite messy, stinky poo. Still, I’d welcome another one into our home.

So, I still don’t know what to answer my husband. I could use a new pair of winter barn boots, but that’s not exactly a “birthday wish” sort of gift. I know – I’ll ask for homemade goat milk soap. It’s indulgent and small farm-based. There’s a nice selection on Etsy.com.

Then again, we do have room for geese.

My “rocker chicks” are looking good.

It’s true on the playground, it’s true at work and it’s true in the henhouse – social life is all about personalities, both individual and group. The flock that I got these two from didn’t have an aggressive hen in the lot. Still, Tina and Siouxie got picked on. Those pouffy hair-dos are too tempting! Even the nicest chicken would want to peck at those bouncing white feathers, and the coop was too small, so Tina and Siouxie couldn’t move out of the way. When they came here I put them in the big barn where there’s lots of room. The big barn hens have bossy temperaments, but most are elderly. I figured they’d leave the new hens alone. I figured wrong. By the second day, the Polish Crested were huddled in a corner, heads tucked down, tails facing the aggressive hens. They weren’t moving to eat or drink. I had to get them out of there. So, I moved them into the HenCam coop. Yes, Siouxsie  and Tina were pecked at. But they also pecked back. Mostly, though, it was posturing. A strike, a retaliation, a quick shuffle a few steps away, then they’d all resume their normal scratching and eating. The important difference between this flock and the hens in the big barn is that the HenCam girls read body language. They didn’t fight to the finish. A head turn away, a scurry out of the range of a peck, was understood as an act of submission. It  was enough. The girls in the big barn do not understand such social subtleties. They peck for blood, and they keep pecking. This is due both to genetics and to learned behavior. I don’t like it. If I had only one barn, these hens would be gone. However, I have room for both, and since, within their own group, on a daily basis, you don’t see it, I keep them around.

Meanwhile, the “rockers”‘ top knots are growing in. New feathers look like porcupine quills. Siouxsie is looking good.

But Tina will always have a bald spot.

As long as Tina’s head doesn’t get cold this winter, I don’t think she’ll care.

I’ve often said that people who claim that they don’t like to cook actually would like to, if only their kitchens weren’t so frustrating. Sometimes the lighting is bad, or the counters are an uncomfortable height or the position of the stove makes them feel like an indentured galley slave. More often, it’s the little annoyances, like not being able to find the right pod lid. Why do people store lids in that awkward drawer under the oven? And keep lids that don’t fit any pots owned by them in the last twenty years? Do yourself a favor. Clean out that drawer!

I keep the pots that I use frequently hanging from a rack. The once-a-year specialty items (like the stock pot and the food mill) are in a closet.

Yes, this is like Tillie Lays an Egg. Find the hen!

The utensils that I use daily are kept right at hand next to the stove. I do not want to rummage around in a cluttered drawer for my favorite spatula! The container is a trophy for the “Highest Scoring Pen” of Plymouth Rocks. 1894.

Knives are kept safely in this drawer. The wooden block keeps their edges sharp.

An organized kitchen allows me to focus on the cooking. I can’t get into that flowing cooking zone if I have to stop and hunt for a tool or ingredient. I think that some people don’t like to bake because of the five annoying minutes it takes them to find the cloves. That doesn’t happen in my kitchen. I’ve got the spices in alphabetical order. Note that this isn’t extreme – the containers don’t match and I believe that my cinnamon is one bottle out of order.

I designed my kitchen with function as the top priority. But, cooking is fun and so should be your space. This display in the corner of mine makes me smile. I think it makes the food taste better.

… roost together.

Although it might look, during the day, as if your hens are all milling about together, getting along fine, in truth they form bonds according to breed. This is very obvious at night when they settle in to roost.

We aren’t surprised to see wild birds flock. Geese migrate in V’s. Blackbirds fill trees in the fall. Pigeons line up on telephone lines. But, when it comes to our own chickens, well, they’re all chickens. And they’re part of our backyard community. And we think they should all be friends. But, they haven’t lost the instinct to be in a flock. I don’t know if a hen is aware of what she, herself, looks like, but she does recognize others that look like her, and she wants to be with them.

What about the hens that don’t have look-alike buddies?

Lulu would like a best friend. She’s tried to be friends with Buffy, but not only don’t their feathers match, but neither do their personalities. Lulu is a busy, active, crazy-sort of hen. Buffy is a settled, older, quiet girl. Buffy tries to be polite to Lulu, but you can tell she wishes that Lulu would just go away.

At night, Buffy, content to be on her own, settles into a nesting box. Lulu sleeps in the one next to her. But, even in this photo, you can see how mismatched they are.

Of all of the hens, Lulu has shown the most interest in the goats. Lulu thinks it’s too bad that they don’t have feathers. Or roost.