The pullets are laying!

For some of you, I’m sure the title of this week’s blog means nothing. But to me, it’s a milestone for my latest batch of chicks (hatched in May, 2012). Let me explain.

First of all, what’s a pullet? A pullet is a female chicken less than one year old. (In case you’re interested, a male less than one year old is called a cockerel.)

Chickens grow really fast, but pullets don’t start laying until they are five or six months old. At that age they are far from full-grown, but they can still lay “eggs.”

I put the term in quotes because the first few weeks of egg-laying are somewhat inconsistent. A mature hen will lay one egg about every 25 hours, but pullets are much less reliable.

When they first start laying, it might be only one egg every three or four days, and the eggs they lay are typically quite small (golf ball-sized, or in some cases, grape-sized). Also there is less consistency in the color; a brown-egg laying breed, such as a New Hampshire Red, might lay white eggs, or a Leghorn (known for white eggs) might lay light brown eggs.

So it takes the pullets a bit of time to get this all sorted out.

My pullets have been laying since early October, but it has only been this week that they seem to have perfected their skills. For some strange reason, they’re all on the same schedule, and this week I've gotten a lot of appropriately colored, high quality eggs.

   

Their timing is perfect since my oldest hens (hatched in April and May, 2010) are nearing the end of their egg-laying years and producing, on average, only one egg per hen each 30 hours (yes, I keep track of this).

I'm so proud of my young ladies! Here’s a picture of some recent pullet eggs I collected from the nesting box:

Bees gone wild!

I like to think that I know my bees, and that they know me. I know it sounds a little crazy, but we country folk tend to develop relationships with our critter companions.

This week I found out that I was totally wrong about me and the bees. I don’t think we’re friends at all.

In preparation for the upcoming cool weather, I decided to inspect my hive to ensure they have an adequate honey supply to winter over (if not, I would periodically give them some sugar water), and that the queen is still healthy and laying eggs (her main job).

Weather this week has been windy, and at times a little cloudy. Generally speaking, you don’t want to inspect your hive when it’s windy or cloudy because the bees are less settled under these climatic conditions. You definitely don’t want to inspect a hive when it’s both windy and cloudy.

I was so busy this week that the only time I had available to inspect the hive was on a windy and cloudy day. I should have waited, but I didn’t. I thought I could deal with it, but I couldn’t. I’m paying the price now.

Everything was fine until I lifted the top cover off the hive, but just then a gust of wind hit, and angry bees flew up out of the hive. I was wearing gloves but not a face net or bee suit. I got stung 5 or 6 times on the face.

Fortunately I’m not allergic to bee stings, so it was a little painful, but not too bad. Here’s what I looked like for a few days:

In the future, I’ll be more careful about timing my hive inspections to coincide with sunny, windless days. 

And maybe next time I’ll wear my bee suit and face protection. Knowing me, probably not! 

Where do chickens come from?

People sometimes ask me, generally with a straight face, where my chickens come from. The answer is, from eggs, of course!

But what I've learned is that there are several ways to get chickens from eggs. Strange as it sounds, I buy most of my chicks online, from a Texas company called Ideal Poultry. They have a huge selection of chicks, and the prices are quite reasonable.

Chicks you order online are delivered by the US Post Office. This is possible because newly hatched chicks don't eat or drink for 48-72 hours. So as long as they reach their destination within this time, they'll be fine. The chicks are packed in cardboard boxes holding a minimum of 25 chicks (any fewer chicks and they might die because they need the warmth of other chicks to help maintain their body heat).

My tiny country post office gets a lot of boxed chicks, and they know exactly what to do. I normally call the post office a few days before the chicks are expected so they'll be on the lookout for my shipment.

The boxed chicks typically arrive at the post office with the first mail delivery around 5:00 am. The morning clerk calls me as soon as the mail comes in so I can pick up my chicks, even though the post office will not be open for almost 3 hours. Once I pick up the chicks I inspect the box so I can report to Ideal Poultry if any chicks look sick or have died in transit (that's never happened for any of my shipments, fortunately).

The other way I have gotten chickens is to hatch my own. This way is harder and contains more uncertainty. Since I don't have an incubator (a container for holding eggs at a constant temperature and humidity until they hatch), I have to rely on one of my hens to sit on the eggs until they hatch. This is hard on the hen, and hard on the eggs, since a hen will often break a few eggs she intends to hatch by moving around in the nesting box. So I have found it much easier to just order chicks online.

Here's a picture of the chicks I got in May 2012. They were less than two days old when they arrived.

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!