Breeds and types of chickens

I don’t know how many chicken breeds there are in the world, but the American Poultry Association recognizes over 100 different breeds.  There are a lot of ways to categorize the breeds of chickens, but one way I find most helpful is based on their function.

 By my categorization, there are three types of chickens: those which are best at laying eggs; those which are best at producing meat; and dual-purpose chickens which are not the best egg-layers, and not the best meat-producers, but moderately good at both functions.

As with many small chicken producers, I have chosen to raise only dual-purpose breeds.  There is little waste in raising dual-purpose chickens since hens past their prime for egg-laying and extra roosters can be harvested for their meat.  In addition to focusing on dual-purpose chickens, I also prefer those which are considered hardy (disease resistant) and which are good foragers (forage for a high percentage of their food needs as opposed to needing chicken food).

One last criterion I use for selecting chickens has to do with recognized heritage breeds.  A heritage breed is one that was used by our forebearers (in the 1700’s, 1800’s, or 1900’s), but is now in danger of becoming extinct because of modern poultry production facilities. The American Livestock Breeds Conservancy has a wealth of information about heritage chicken breeds and other livestock.  

So while my chickens are all dual-purpose, I currently have 5 different breeds: Wyandottes, Delawares, New Hampshires, Dominiques, and Aracuanas. All these breeds are listed by the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy.  The first four breeds I mentioned lay brown eggs; the Aracuanas lay greenish blue eggs.  I would love to have some Chanteclers, which are close to becoming extinct, but have not been able to find any.

Next week…Where do chickens come from?

About my chickens

A few weeks ago I wrote about my beekeeping activities. This week I’ll start telling you about my chickens. There is a lot to tell!

People often ask why I raise chickens. The simple answer is that I like to know where my food comes, and I like to know that my food is raised humanely. I don’t know of any way to be absolutely certain about humane conditions unless I’m doing it myself.  

So about 5 years ago I got interested in raising chickens for meat and for eggs. As usual, I did a lot of research before getting any chickens. 

What I learned is that chickens are easy to keep and have few health problems if raised correctly. I decided that my chickens would free range most of the day (once the dogs were up), but realized that I needed to protect them from foxes, coyotes, and other predators at night.

Here’s a picture of my solution to the predator problem.

All night and in the morning until the dogs are put up, my chickens are protected by an electric fence around their houses. The house on the left is where most of the chickens sleep at night and where the hens lay their eggs. The hoop house on the right is additional roosting space; I also use it to house baby chicks until they are big enough to mingle with the older chickens.

The electric fence and both chicken houses are portable, so I can move the chickens to fresh ground every week. This is much healthier than a traditional setup where chickens are raised and live in a chicken yard that has to be cleaned every few months. When my chickens get stinky, I move them to another location.  The houses can be hooked onto the tractor, the truck, or my John Deere Gator utility vehicle for easy transport. The electric fence folds up and can be easily carried.

Most days I let the chickens out after walking the dogs, and they free range over our property during the day. Chickens are happiest when they can peck, scratch, and forage. My chickens eat bugs, lizards, small snakes, seeds, and other tasty tidbits they find. Here are some pictures of my happy foragers.

 Next week….Breeds and types of chickens

A death in the family

A few weeks ago I wrote about my carefully orchestrated schedule to keep predators and prey separated. This week, in spite of my efforts, there was a death in my family. My beloved orange and white tabby, Orange Juice (OJ), is gone, and my own dogs killed him. This is painful to admit.

Before I tell you how OJ died, I want to tell you about his life. Like so many of my critters, I don’t know where he came from or what his story was. But I loved him dearly.

One cool spring night in March 2008, while putting food outside for the barn cats, I noticed a large, scraggly, orange and white tabby cat hanging back near a grove of trees in the yard. I called to him, but he ran off.

Every night when I put out the food the stray cat was there, but he never let me get close. I started sitting by the door and calling to him each night; gradually he came closer and closer.

By August, the stray finally let me touch his head, and the rest was history. A week later I was able to get him into a carry cage to go to the vet. He had the usual afflictions of a stray: fleas, ticks, ear mites, and internal parasites. My vet said he was about 10 years old, and since he had not been neutered, I had that done before I brought him home.

My then 2-year old granddaughter was visiting at the time, and while I called the new cat Orange (because of his color), she insisted his name should be Orange Juice. OJ’s the name that stuck.

Normally a male cat neutered so late in life will be rather unpleasant and continue to mark his scent in the house, but OJ was a perfect gentleman. He quickly became an indoor cat, and filled an empty space at the foot of our bed, day and night.

OJ was full of life, but also full of mischief. When my husband and I played cards at night, OJ often jumped in the middle of the table and batted the cards onto the floor. When I sat at my desk to do school work, he would sit in my lap and purr his encouragement. Often when I petted him he would playfully bite my hand.

Unfortunately, OJ also liked to taunt the dogs, running to get inside the house just before they got to him. Other times he would sit silently by the side of the road while the dogs ran obliviously by him, then turn to hiss when they were too far away to catch him. I’m sure it never occurred to OJ, but I knew that as he got older and ran slower, this might become a deadly game.

And so it did. Last Sunday, I heard the dogs barking by the garage, and went out to find OJ on the ground surrounded by my four younger dogs. We quickly took him to the Animal Emergency Room. He had a punctured lung, and several bite wounds, but did fairly well throughout Sunday night and early Monday morning.

The Animal Emergency Room is only open nights and weekends, so on Monday morning I picked up OJ and drove him to my regular vet. He purred and licked my hand as I held him in the car. I was optimistic that he would be okay.

But it was not to be so. My vet knows that I won't allow animals to suffer because I'm afraid to let them die. When OJ became distressed Tuesday morning, she euthanized him. I know it was not an easy decision for her, because she knew OJ too, but it was the right decision.

We buried OJ Tuesday afternoon, near the same grove of trees he once hid in when I called to him at night. I can see his grave from my door.

I know my dogs had no malice aforethought —they are, as I have told you, killing machines, and were just doing what a pack of dogs will do. But I’ve struggled unsuccessfully all week to forgive and forget. I’m not sure I'm capable of doing so.

In the meantime, I think again how fragile life is. And I am reminded of the importance of keeping my predators separated from their prey. 

Country wisdom

Because I’ve lived in both the city (most of my adult life) and the country (during my early childhood and now as a retiree), I often reflect on the differences between city folks and country folks. I’ve concluded that one of the biggest differences is between city smarts and country smarts.

By city “smarts,” I mean accumulated knowledge that could be called the wisdom of city folks. This wisdom might include: where’s the nearest Starbucks, which gas station has the best prices, or maybe even bus or train schedules for commuting. For some city folks, it might also be where it’s safe to walk at night, or where not to go even during the daytime.

Generally city wisdom is relatively easily acquired, whether by asking someone for directions, checking a schedule, or reading the newspaper. When I was a city dweller, these bits of wisdom framed my daily experiences.

When I moved to the country, I had to learn a uniquely different type of “smarts”. The wisdom of country folks is nature-based because animals and nature (not people) are our constant companions. And while you might read a book or talk to someone to get some information, I’ve found that country wisdom only comes with experience.

For example, I’ve learned from experience to distinguish birds based on their silhouettes. So a brief glimpse skywards is all I need to tell if a bird is a falcon after my free-ranging chickens, or a harmless vulture. I use this wisdom daily to keep my chickens alive.

Similarly, I need hear only a single yip to know if coyotes are close enough to threaten my cats, or if it’s safe to let them stay outside for the night.

When one of my dogs or cats gets bitten by a poisonous snake (in my area, usually a water moccasin), I’ve learned to distinguish when I can treat it myself, versus when the bite is serious enough to require veterinary care. With 6 dogs and 6 cats, this country wisdom has saved me thousands of dollars (note for city folks: each animal anti-venom treatment costs around $1800)!

And I can tell by the wake it leaves if a snake swimming near me in the river is a water moccasin, or a harmless water snake.

These bits of country wisdom have no correlation with my former city life, but they now frame my daily experiences.

So I can’t tell you where it’s safe to walk in San Antonio, and I don’t have a clue about bus service. You’re on your own when it comes to knowing where's the nearest Starbucks. But visit me in the country, and you'll learn things you don’t even know you need to know!

How do you hive bees, anyway?

Last week I wrote about how I got started with beekeeping in April, 2012. The highlight of my adventure was a 3 1/2 hour ride home from Beeweaver Apiary in Navasota, Texas with  100 or so loose bees in the car (not counting the 10,000 bees secured in a shipping box).

This week I'll tell you how I got the bees out of the shipping box, and into the hive. This process is called "hiving" the bees.

Hiving Bees in 4 Easy Steps (actually, I found it rather challenging, but it looks easy!)

Step 1:  There's a metal syrup can blocking the hole of the shipping box to keep the bees from escaping. Remove the can and reach into the box (yes, into a box of buzzing, possibly stinging bees) to get the queen cage out. Quickly replace the can or the bees will escape before you want them to.

Step 2: Remove the little cork at the end of the queen cage. On the other end of the cage is a marshmallow stopper that you leave in place. Then you put the queen cage into the hive body between two of the frames. 

As I mentioned last week, this stage is critical. At this point the queen is a stranger to the bees in the shipping box, and if you put them all together in the hive, they will kill the queen. 

Step 3: Remove the syrup can and shake the bees out of the shipping box and over the frames holding the queen cage.

Step 4: Quickly place the outer cover over the hives, so the bees don't escape, and you're done. Here's what the hive looks like at this point:

In two or three days you open the hive and remove the queen cage. If all has gone well it will be empty because the bees will have eaten through the marshmallow stopper and released the queen. Since the bees have had a few days to get used to her smell while they were eating the marshmallow, they will accept her. 

If something goes wrong, such as they eat through the marshmallow to quickly, or don't like the queen's smell, they will kill her. In that case you'd have to quickly get a replacement queen, since a hive without a queen will die in a few weeks.

Hive Maintenance

Once you've done the hiving, bees require little maintenance until it's time to harvest the honey (usually in August or September in our area). Each month I check the hive to ensure the queen is still there and that the bees are filling the frames with brood and honey. So far, so good!