Warhol Goats

While we were away the GoatCam finally gave up the ghost and died. Over the few days that its circuits went bonkers, the GoatCam got artistic. For awhile a gallery of Warhol Goats were streamed online.

goatcam3-2

 

IT Guy Steve spent yesterday morning replacing the cam. I assisted by getting the goats into the pasture and closing the gate behind them. They do like *helping* with tools, but for some reason Steve thought he could do a better job without them supervising.

So, the GoatCam is now back up and running, albeit a bit less colorfully than last week. We’ll be purchasing new cams, like the spiffy HenCam model, in the next few months. Your support via the coffee button, and through my store, helps us to keep the livestreaming cams in the realistic school of art and not in pop art. Thanks!

Update: due to popular demand, T-shirts and gifts with this image are now available from The HenCam Store!

Chicken Necropsies

Over the years I’ve seen many sick chickens. You can divide the ailments into respiratory and other. Respiratory disease can spread quickly through your flock. It can be lethal.  You’ll find a lot of erroneous information online about how to determine which pathogen has caused the outbreak; there is no way of telling without expensive lab tests. I know, because I’ve gone that route. Unless you are a professional farmer, it doesn’t make much difference to know what germs are causing your hens to wheeze and go listless. The treatment is the same. Antibiotics can often stem the tide, as I detailed here.

That other category covers everything from cancer, to fatty liver disease, to internal laying. Once again, it’s sheer guesswork to try to deduce the underlying cause of your hen’s symptoms. Once again, almost everything you read online is wrong. A chicken has only so many ways of looking ill, and that penguin stance, the listlessness, the dark comb, can be caused by any number of very different ailments.

Sometimes those symptoms don’t point to a lethal disease. Sometimes a chicken simply needs to get their internal systems moving. Maybe her mineral balance is out of whack. Maybe an egg is taking too long to move along the repro tract. Maybe her digestion has stalled. In those cases, my Spa Treatment will put things to right. You’ll still only be guessing about the root cause, but at least your hen will get some relief. If the Spa Treatment doesn’t work, and your chicken dies, it’s still all guesswork as to the cause unless you do a necropsy.

Some states allow you to send a dead chicken to their labs to be examined, but this service is meant for professional farmers. If everyone with backyard chickens sent their deceased birds in, it would bankrupt the programs. In any event, my state doesn’t offer this option. My own vet doesn’t do necropsies, either. In the past, if I wanted to know why a chicken died, I’d have to pay to ship it out of state. It was prohibitively expensive. I was frustrated with not knowing what my chickens died of. Fortunately, in January of 2010, I was able to attend a necropsy workshop at a poultry show, where I learned how to do this procedure myself. Because it wasn’t prudent to bring diseased birds onto the premises, we practiced on healthy cockerels. So, the workshop taught me the basics, but after doing my first necropsy on a hen from my own flock, it was obvious that a healthy rooster is nothing like an aged laying hen.

I looked for necropsy tutorials. Cornell Veterinary School has put a 4-hour video online. I watched that. State extension services have basic information online, like this fact sheet from Ohio State. I found papers about specific diseases, like this one on kidney damage in commercial layers. I looked through my collection of poultry books. The most useful illustrations were found in the older books, when farmers had small flocks and did the necropsies themselves.

2013-08-12@11.35.36

All of this research was helpful, but what I found inside of my old chickens didn’t match the tidy illustrations from the manuals. I contacted a vet in Michigan who does necropsies with the 4-H club kids. I contacted an avian vet in England who is experienced with older backyard birds. I’ve been learning a lot. I’ve done thirteen necropsies. Each time I learn something new. Each time, before I do the necropsy, I think that I have a good sense of what was wrong with the hen. Each time I was wrong. Two chickens, the same age, breed and care, died within a month of each other. They both exhibited the same symptoms. But, what I found inside was not at all the same.

What I can tell you is that by the time a chicken dies, her internal organs are a mess. I’ve seen ovarian cancer, tumors and blocked guts. I’ve seen masses of solidified eggs in the body cavity, infected fluid, and a heart that looked like jelly. It is astounding what a diseased chicken can live with before she shows signs of illness. I’ve come to believe that by the time I see her standing hunched and miserable, that things have been going wrong inside of her for a long time. This is why, if a hen is not eating on her own, that I don’t feed her with a syringe, or baby her with gruel. Or, If she has fluid in the body cavity, I know that there’s an underlying disease causing it and I’m not going to drain her and keep her around for a few more months. I’ve come to know that when a hen can’t eat, that she is suffering. If she is listless in a corner, then she is suffering. I’ve come to believe in the kindness of euthanizing.

Doing the necropsies has taught me more than I’d ever hope to learn from a book or a video. Doing them has certainly taught me that most of the amateur diagnoses out there (for example, “she’s egg bound”) are just plain wrong. This doesn’t mean that you, too, have to do necropsies. Knowing the cause doesn’t change the outcome. (The only exceptions are the increasing number of hens dying of fatty liver disease because  of overfeeding scratch corn, and the hens dying of kidney disease due to overfeeding of meal worms. Read about feeding here.) However, the knowledge that I gain from the necropsies makes me a better chicken keeper. Telling you about what I find in the necropsies helps everyone.

If you do home necropsies, have taken a necropsy workshop, or found a good source of information, let me know. There’s much more to learn.

How To Cook Chard

You never know what will be a success in the vegetable garden. This year my bell peppers withered and fell off of the plants. Total fail. But the chard keeps unfurling green, sturdy, and almost unscathed by pests. It requires frequent harvesting.

chard

 

Before working with it in the kitchen, I give the leaves a quick wash to get the worst of the dirt off.

leaf

 

It’s best to cook the ribs and dark parts separately so that the tender leaves don’t turn to mush while waiting for the ribs to soften. The easiest way to separate them is simply to tear the greens off of the rib.

tear

 

I do this all the way down the plant.

tearing

 

I wash the leafy parts into a bowl of water. Swirl, lift out, change the water. This can take three dunkings before the grit is thoroughly rinsed off.

wash

 

The ribs are edible, and chopped are a nice addition to vegetable soups. But, I have such an abundance of greens, that in all honesty, I don’t want to bother with them. Luckily, I have goats who love crunching them down, and so Pip and Caper get the ribs. The chickens also devour chard, even the insect-chewed and wilted plants. Only the choicest vegetables go onto my own table.

ribs

 

Here they are raw and ready to work with. Greens give off a lot of water when cooked, and so you shouldn’t add them raw to recipes other than soup. These chard leaves were destined to go into a frittata, and also get made into a cold, dressed vegetable side-dish.

raw

 

When cooked, greens shrink down to less than a quarter of their volume. So, start them in a big pot. I use a wok with about an inch of boiling water in the bottom. I put in the greens, and, using tongs, turn them over constantly as they shrink and wilt. Here they are after only one minute.

almost

 

One more minute and they are done.

done

 

Drain them in a colander.

drain

 

When cool enough to handle, squeeze out the excess moisture. This is what you end up with. Doesn’t look like much does it? But, you know how many leaves went into this!

finished

Chopped, these cooked chard greens can be added to lasagna, stratas, omelets, or just about anything. You can squeeze on fresh lemon juice and stir with the best extra virgin olive oil that you have, add salt and a bit of red pepper flakes to make a traditional Italian dish. Use dark sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds for an Asian side.

Cooked chard can be frozen. I use a vacuum sealer and it stays fresh until cold weather arrives and I’m ready to make hearty winter soups.

I’ve just planted my fall crop of spinach. I’m hoping that it will be as successful as the chard. But, you never know with gardening.

The White Leghorn

Twiggy, my white leghorn, is quite the character. She’s a lean, flashy, white and red streak. You might catch sight of her in the nesting box  – briefly – while she lays. Right after, though, she jumps up. stands in the pop door, loudly announces her achievement and goes back to zipping around the yard. Her vivacious personality would be enough to convince me to keep her around, but a hundred years ago, farmers switched to white leghorns because of how many eggs they laid.

Imagine going from keeping utility birds, that laid 100 eggs per year, to this.

101-4 - Version 2

 

All of a sudden, instead of chickens being animals that ate scratch and occasionally brought in a little money, a farmer could make a living off of a flock. He or she (and yes, there were many women poultry farmers) could specialize. With little land, and a minimal investment, a person could start an egg farm. This photo was taken in the 1920s when people had hen fever.

For awhile it seemed as if keeping leghorns on pasture was a way to the good life. Soon enough, though, the economic landscape changed, and refrigeration, trucking, antibiotics and caged systems altered everything. Fortunately, the white leghorn did not disappear. Mine doesn’t provide a livelihood, but she is supplying the eggs for a frittata for dinner tonight, which is a good life for both of us.