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.

It was a beautiful day. I said to the dogs, “Let’s go for a walk.” Lily said, YES!” and ran to the door. Scooter ran to the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. He hates wearing a harness and leash. I said, “Fine, you can stay home.” Lily and I left for our walk.

Scooter changed his mind.

Goats can’t read.