Our Monday in the Yard

Today was a good Monday. Don't you love it when a Monday is good? Poor Monday tends to get such a bad rap most of the time.

I think today was good because it was slow and peaceful. Even though it was super productive, it was not rushed. We were relaxed. The weather was gray but it was still lovely. We spent most of the day outside. Angus never changed out of his jammie's, and wore a shirt of his cousins nearly five sizes too big all day.

The boys searched for bugs together in the front yard. While they were filling up their bug hotels with rolie-polies, centipedes and earthworms, I mowed the lawn.

I love mowing the lawn. It is, and has been, one of my most favorite household "chores." There's just something nice about the mixture of getting exercise, cleaning up the lawn, and inhaling the smell of freshly cut grass (one of my top 3 fave smells). It really does me good. And the first lawn mow of the season? Pure joy! Plus we use a reel mower, so while I am mowing the lawn I can hear the sound of my children giggling/bargaining/playing together, the birds chirping, etc, as opposed to the usual ear-numbing noise lawn mowers can make.

After eating the lunch that Oscar excitedly prepared for us (turkey lunch meat, almonds, pistachios and apples anyone?) Angus went down for a much needed (4 hour!) nap. Oscar and I went back outside to tackle the back yard.

I picked up left over leaves from Fall, moved some dirt around, cleaned the garden area, and mowed the back lawn. Oscar climbed the "big" maple all by himself, let the chickens out and chased them around, found the bottom half of a bird skeleton (feet intact), and drew a dilophosaurus with chalk. It was really nice for the both of us.

After dinner we headed back out as a family. We put up the tire swing on the front pine tree, as our hopeful welcome to spring. I transplanted some daylillies in the front flower beds. Bryan trimmed the tree, whose limbs had begun to rest on our rooftop. The boys swung on the swing and had "sword" (branch) fights with some of the cut tree limbs. Oscar helped trim branches from the crab-apple tree and the rose bush. Angus eagerly held each worm I unearthed. He pinched them between his fingers, held his arm out front, scrunched his face so cutely, and said "I don't wike urf-worms," repeatedly.

Dusk began to settle, we went inside. Boys were pajama'd and teeth were brushed. Books were read, prayers were said, songs were sung, kisses were exchanged.

Life was lived today.

Life was good today.

Secret Nest

We were experiencing a lull in egg collections.

All the normal egg laying spots remained almost empty for days.

So I did some snooping, and finally one afternoon I found it.

The secret nest.

Twenty-five eggs coated in a slight film of dirt.

Laid faithfully between one wall of the compost bin

and the soft edge of an old curtain.

A lovely spot to lay one...an egg that is.

IF, of course, you are a chicken.As I type this post,

I can hear loud clucks coming from the chicken run.

No doubt it is a hen boasting about her current egg creation,

Possibly laid in this very spot.

More feathered friends.

Baby chickie's are cute, adorable really. So it is no wonder that my Mom and I couldn't resist adding a few more to our chicken families.

Four of these fluff-balls are ours, four are my Mom's. So that will bring our grand total to TEN chickens (well, if we don't use any of the current chickens for "other purposes" sometime soon). Oh, and please don't tell on us since we will be over Boise's limit of chickens by SEVEN. I can bribe you with eggs if need be, or maybe even a free-range organic chicken breast perhaps???

Here's what our newly welcomed chicks will look like in adulthood:

Barred Cochin Bantam

Buff Orpington

White Silkie Bantam

(has black skin and 5 toes, very unique)

Araucana (lays the cool blue/green eggs)

Not fit for a chicken.

Yesterday Bryan found an old package of graham crackers sitting on a window ledge in the garage. There were a few stale, mid-sized chunks remaining in the bottom. So, like we do with most food scraps that we do not plan on consuming ourselves, he tossed them to las gallinas. In their usual frenzy of excitement they ran over to peck at our offerings. They were sorely disappointed. Not one of the chickens snacked on the graham crackers. Nope, not even one little nibble. It was like they did not even recognize them as being edible.

Now, I realize that graham crackers are not the healthiest snack, but surely they are decent enough for a chicken? Apparently not, I checked this morning and all the little bits lay in the same position as when Bryan threw them out yesterday, completely untouched. Bryan and I were astonished, and our opinion of graham crackers quickly changed. Maybe these chickens could sense something we couldn't. Maybe if our chickens didn't deem them fit to eat, we shouldn't either.

***

As I pulled out my grocery list last night before departing for the store. I saw I had graham crackers listed, I took my pen and crossed them out. The chickens have me sort of spooked.

You pluck a chicken, you tweaze your eyebrows.

(not for the weak of stomach)

Growing up whenever I would say I was plucking my eyebrows my Mom would always correct me in a sing-songy voice, "you pluck a chicken, and you tweaze your eyebrows.

Well, this afternoon I had the privilege of plucking my chickens hindquarters. The majority of the hens are now sporting naked butts. This had to be done because the lice laid eggs on the quills of the chicken's "bum feathers" (called lice nits). Apparently the most effective way to keep those eggs from hatching is to pull out the feathers they are stuck to. So I plucked a bazillion infested feathers, sealed the feathers tight in a plastic bag, and tossed it in the trash. I then dusted the chickens again, in hopes of killing off the remaining evil adult lice, and sent them on back to the compost pile.

(Lice nit at the end of a feather. To illustrate what I have been dealing with)

Fanny laid a whopper.

Fanny laid a crazy huge egg the other day.

It had all sorts of weird indentations on it too.

Fanny's is the Huge brown one.

The green one in the middle is about the size of a normal egg.

The last one is, well, teeny tiny.

Check it out!

The lid on the egg carton would not even close because of this busty egg!
Oscar ate it for lunch on Sunday. The yolk was enormous.

Spa day for chickens.

Last Friday afternoon Oscar and I gave our girls (the chickens) a much needed spa treatment. The poor feathered ladies have been fighting off a case of lice/mites. Yup, chickens can get lice. You don't have to tell me how gross that is, for I was the one who discovered the little buggers crawling all over our chickens' vents (that is where the egg comes out). I will save you the nitty gritty details, which tested even my strong gag reflex. The lice/mites are very irritating to the chickens, negatively effect egg production is some birds, and can cause spotty feather loss. However it doesn't affect the quality of their eggs which are still fine to eat, thank heavens!


We picked up some Diatomaceous Earth (organic way to eliminate pests), dusted their little feathered butts like crazy with the stuff, and poured it all over the clean coop. I gave them another dose of the dust yesterday. The scales on their legs needed some attention as well, so we slathered them in mineral oil to suffocate any scaly leg mites that might be burrowing there.

Sounds pretty glamorous huh? Oscar and I sure were dirty after that, but I think the chickens appreciated it.

A fresh brown...

My timing was perfect today. Well, perfectly awkward.

I went to the coop to check on the chickens this afternoon. I opened the coop door at the exact moment that Carly-Angus was laying a fresh brown...egg. She was assuming the crouching position, and our eyes met as the egg touched down softly onto the pine bedding. It was awkward for her, it was awkward for me. It was kind of like accidentally walking in on someone sitting on the toilet, or even having a baby. Your not sure whether to shut the door quickly, run, and pretend like it didn't happen, or shield your eyes and apologize profusely for your embarrassing blunder.

I will admit that my curiosity won out. I left the door cracked open so I could spy on her egg laying ritual, all the while feeling secretly lucky to have witnessed such a simple yet spectacular part of the life of a chicken.

Molt.

(The three of us on the slide, slightly related to post)

Raisin is our little, black feathered chicken. She lays cute mini-sized eggs and is usually quite reliable at it. Except for recently she is not so reliable. In fact she is down right CRANKY, and has not laid an egg in a month. It's like she is a PMS'ing bird who has a case of 'little chickens' syndrome (you know, she acts like a jerk to compensate for her size). She is broody, all she wants to do is sit on and warm the other chickens eggs all day. She is also molting. Her whole underbelly is currently feather-less and naked.

The other afternoon I was explaining to Oscar that Raisin is going through a rough time right now. I told him lots of chickens go through a phase where they molt, or lose their feathers. He looked freaked out when I showed him Raisin's bare tummy, but I assured him that her feathers would surely grow back.

A little while later we were playing on our slide out back. I was sitting at the bottom with my back resting on the slide. Oscar slid down and was resting with his feet on my shoulders. As he slid his shoe pulled a few strands of hair off my head. He GASPED, looked down and touched the spot on my head were the hair was pulled out, and exclaimed, "MOM! You're molting!!!" He then said, "Awe, but don't worry Mom... it will grow back."

I was thankful for his reassuring words.

Blue egg.

The laying of the elusive blue egg has finally begun!

Oscar and I were so giddy when we found it.

(The color is more vibrant than my dinky camera can capture)

Who'da thunk eggs could be so exciting!?!

Take that Chickens...

It may not look like much, but this recently constructed chicken run is currently my most favorite addition to our yard. At first the chickens were really pissed. A few of them would pace back and forth squawking at me to let them out. However they have settled down now, and accepted their inevitable containment.

(Please excuse the completely ghetto white-trash nature of this picture. We are aware, and improvements are currently being worked on.)

Thanks to reclaimed lumber and free chicken wire...

No longer will these chickens dig holes in my flower beds.
No longer will bark be flicked by their feet all over the grass.
No longer will the bottom of our shoes be covered in chicken crap.
No longer will we be fearful to play chase, kick a soccer ball, or simply sit in our yard.
AND MOST IMPORTANTLY,
No longer will my youngest child be able to pick up chicken poo and then eat it...
yep, that really happened.

It is a moment both Angus and I wish we could forget.

Confessions of a smell-aholic.

I am fascinated with how things smell. I can often be found smelling my surroundings. When I pick something up, it usually goes directly up to my nose for a scent inspection (clothing, shoes, even the occasional poopy diaper). You name it, I would probably smell it. So naturally when I grabbed a couple of fresh laid eggs out of the coop the other day, up to my nose they went. I am not quite sure what I was expecting to find. But I thought, "newborn babies smell sweet, so a newly laid egg will smell sweet also."


Well, they certainly don't smell anything like a newborn baby. They don't smell sweet, they smell weird. I have never smelled a chicken fart, but I imagine that it would smell something like the shell of a newly laid egg.

Regardless, I still smell them every time I pick them up.

Dozen.

Sweet.

Our first full dozen eggs at one time.

Way to go Fanny, Carly-Angus, and Raisin.

Now get to work you others. (Notice the difference in size? Raisin's little eggs, the lightest colored ones, are so cute.)

On a side note, I think Red may be slightly delusional. Everyday she seriously acts just like she is laying an egg. She makes all the squawking noises, puffs up her feathers, sits on the nest for a while, except for when she gets up...there is no egg. Silly chicken. First, you lay an egg. Then you lay a shell-less egg. Now you are laying invisible eggs. I like you, but you sure are weird.

Highly suspect.

Most likely suspect in the case of the disappearing eggs.

Reece.

Duh.

Tidbits.

Sometimes when you happen across $90 designer (salt) jeans for only $20, that fit you like a glove, you might just have to buy TWO of the same pair. Maybe your mom will love them so much as well, that she will also buy herself two pair.

When you have gone shopping during your nine month old's nap time, substituting the misplaced binky with a Fruit Leather to appease your cranky child is not the best idea. Inevitably, you will both leave the store COVERED in fruity goo (but hey, I guess there are worse things you could be covered in).

Realizing you have an egg thief hiding somewhere in your back yard will fill you with an odd kind of rage. A rage that makes you feel tingly, sweaty, and perplexed. Damn you egg thief! I will get you...(and your little dog too.) Time for a major stake out.

Finding a vintage orange wool blanket to cover your child's bed simply rocks.

Stroking your little boys soft cheeks as he drifts off into dreams will be one of the most satisfying moments of your day.

Butt and ugly.

Fanny,
You may be one of the loudest,
ugliest lookin' chickens I know,
but you sure know how to lay good and consistent eggs.

(Fanny in her favorite nesting spot)

(some of Fanny's brown beauties)

As I was crouching down to take the above picture of Fanny,

I felt something peck a couple times at my left butt cheek.

I turned around and snapped this shot of the culprit.

(Carly-Angus, our most curious and obnoxious bird)