Our First Feathered Friends
Following a mid-July family getaway, I set to work on a singular goal: GET CHICKENS!
I’d been thinking about whether to do this for a long time. I’d read so many books on chicken keeping that I felt there was nothing left to learn except through firsthand experience. Making the decision all the more clear was the fact that I already had a covered four-post structure and weather-proof shed in my backyard that I wasn’t using. Following a major clean-up, some minor reapirs, and the addition of nest boxes and a sturdy bar for roosting, the shed would become a large coop where the birds would be safe at night. The covered structure only needed some physical support, chicken wire, and a recycled screen door to become an outdoor chicken run where the birds would have access to fresh air and sunshine.
Eleanor helping paint the door frame; shed by the basement door for nighttime housing.
The kitchen window looks down on the chicken run–perfect for keeping an eye out for the girls!
The building process was pretty straightforward, the only major snag being the nest of angry yellowjackets in the ground beneath one of the corner posts. The vibration of my hammering drove them crazy; they would pour out of the entrance to their nest, fly all around scouting for danger, then slowly calm down and go back inside. Having to back off and wait them out was really slowing things down. I suffered two rather unpleasant stings to my hand, but soldiered on, talking sweetly to them and telling them I meant them no harm. In fact, if they would just let me finish, the chickens would soon be helping to fertilize the garden, which in turn would host insects for them to live off of. Who bargains with bugs, anyway?
Hubbie suited up to work over the wasp nest.
I saved the post above the wasp nest for last and then I did what any sane woman would do–I begged my dear Hubbie to get in there and nail up the chicken wire for me. He kindly obliged, putting on thick leather gloves and his winter raincoat for wasp protection. He was sweating bullets in the middle of the only “heatwave” our miserable summer could muster up and, thinking he’d be covered in angry wasps, he planned to get in there and get the job done as quickly as possible. And then–miracle of miracles!–not a single yellowjacket emerged as he drove in the first nail. Proceeding with much trepidation, he completed the job without siting a single one. The hive was gone!
For the last six weeks we believed they had simply moved house. Strangely, all that remained was a large hole that looked to be the handiwork of a small animal. Then, last night I came across the fact that a skunk or raccoon will dig out a wasp nest and eat the larvae. For several nights in a row a few weeks ago Hubbie and I had seen a skunk rather cutely waddling through the unmown grass in the front yard. Mystery solved; thank you Skunk!
The girls are introduced to their new home. Two standard-sized hens hopped right out; the pigeon-sized bantams had to consider it.
Buying that first bag of chicken feed was like crossing a threshold, a point of no return: we were really getting chickens! We drove all the way out to Maple Ridge to pick out the four hens from a woman named Loretta. She had dozens of chickens on her 12-acre property and had, at one time, tried to keep them separated by breed so that she could raise purebred chicks. But, she greatly valued them having free range, so they tended not to breed as she wished them to. She said that she gave up after a while and settled for raising healthy, happy mixed-breed birds–not such a bad compromise, really. When it comes to dogs, I’ve always preferred a friendly mutt over a finicky purebred myself, so I totally agreed with her philosophy.
We chose to take home two likely-pure Old English Game Bantams (very small, amusing, and good for children) and two standard-sized hens. The largest hen, Goldie, is likely an Orpington x Cochin cross and the white hen with gray-green feet she said was probably an Araucana x Cochin.
Dada gets a turn at the feeding trough. The Strawberry Shortcake tray from 1985 is what we serve “treats” on. It makes a nice metallic sound that the girls now recognize.
Goldie and Lord Snow hang out together a good bit. Here they’re dust-bathing in an old metal sink filled with dirt.
Having hens has been fairly easy so far. Only once have we had a missing-chicken-scare! We were late eating dinner one night and the girls were antsy for their pre-bed free range time so we let them out and continued with our dinner, keeping a close eye out the window for them. When I saw the neighbor’s cat in our yard, we all ran outside to shoo him away and do a head count to be sure and… we couldn’t find Fluffy anywhere!
Her beautiful coloring is called Wheaten. OEG Bantams are only about the size of pigeons at full maturity.
Fluffy was Eleanor’s personal selection and is so sweet, Ellie was handling her and hand-feeding her the day we brought them home. We were quite sure Johnny Trouble couldn’t have gotten her that fast and there were no signs of a chicken abduction, so we just waited for the sunlight to fade that magical amount that would trigger the chickens’ head-for-home instinct. For the remainder of our meal we spoke very seriously to Eleanor about the slim chances of this bird returning; we, perhaps a bit insensitively, tried to console her with the reminder that these chickens were to be food-producing animals, not pets, so we shouldn’t be too sentimental about it. About half an hour later, quite unbelievably, Fluffy came walking around the corner of the house just as the other birds were starting to make their way toward the coop door. She had been hiding from the cat, we supposed. She and Dada did a reunion dance and that was that; they went in to roost for the night.
It turns out that chickens are the ultimate creatures of habit and, for this reason, it isn’t hard at all to get them in and out. Since our coop is not contained within or directly attached to the outdoor run but is actually separated by about five feet, I was worried in the beginning that it would be difficult to herd them into the run in the morning without setting up some kind of “chicken chute” to prevent them escaping. By now, though, we’ve settled into a timely routine that works for us.
The hens now get some free range time in the morning when they first come out of the coop and in the evening before they go back in to roost for the night.
Now, we’re just waiting for eggs. Not wanting to raise chicks our first time, we started with 4-5 month old pullets, so they should be getting near old enough to lay by now. However, egg production is influenced by hormones triggered by daylight and since the days are getting shorter and shorter, it could be spring before we have consistently good egg production, even if they started laying now. Supplemental lighting for a few hours a day may be something to try during the winter months. For now, we’re just enjoying watching and being with our first feathered friends!
rain rain go away 