Since I started work again in September, I’ve missed some important moments in the lives of my chickens. I failed to witness the perfecting of their bug-snatching technique. I even missed the moment when they cashed in their sweet little “peeps” for grown-up “clucks”. This week, it seems I’ve missed another milestone: their first encounter with a hawk. It really ruffles my feathers that I have to hear these stories from others rather than witnessing them myself. Still, I’ll do my best to make it a fascinating read for you. Let me set the scene…
On the morning of the incident, a family of deer wandered through the backyard. Everyone, including the chickens, stopped to take notice. Each chicken peered at the deer through the green wire of the run, no doubt speculating and gossiping as chickens do. As these creatures continued to eye one another, it seems the chickens caught the eye of something else up above. Within moments, a hawk dropped from the sky, speedily descending on the unsuspecting ladies. Frances and Annabel Lee collected their senses quickly enough to make a mad dash for the Eglu. Dorothy, however, was suddenly possessed with the frantic, lunatic spirit of Henny-Penny. Beak open, wings flailing, feathers flying, frantically clucking, “THE SKY IS FALLING!! THE SKY IS FALLING!!” or perhaps more likely “OH, BALLS, I’M GOING TO DIE!!” Somewhere between the clouds in the sky and this frantic ball of raging, spastic feathers, the hawk realized that it was about to smash its face into the wire cage of the run. Not a moment too soon, the hawk pulled up and flew off — probably to go buy some hawk glasses and get some therapy for what was likely the most embarrassing moment of its life. After making a sublimely stupid spectacle of herself, Dorothy pulled herself together and managed to get through the rest of the day… a few feathers short, but when your head is full of feathers, does it really matter?
Please enjoy the following video featuring Frances and Annabel Lee as they get way too excited about my jeans:
It has been so long since my last post that I’m almost ashamed to even show my face ’round these parts. I would promise to reform and give up my lazy, starry-eyed ways, but that’s a promise I know I can’t keep. While you all have been anxiously awaiting any tiny morsel of chicken news, I have been quite busy falling in love. It’s none of your business, of course, but I like to think there is a chicken angle in this development that warrants thoughtful comments on this blog. Picture this: a young woman updates her match.com profile with news of (what else?) her new enthusiasm for chickens. This is in part an effort to separate the wheat from the chaff. For example, how many young men do you know who would say, “Oh, baby!” to that? If you know even one I’m impressed. Nevertheless, our heroine is undaunted and proceeds to send out emails to promising individuals. Within a day or two, a particularly promising young man responds with a question about… chickens. “Where do you keep them?” he asks, “Clearly you don’t live in a condo.” No indeed. She does not. They decide to meet. Before long, both hearts are full of gloppy, gooey, glorious love. As these two characters work to develop the Happily Ever After chapter of their story, the young woman begins to perceive her chickens as little feathered fairy godmothers for the role they surely played in securing her present happiness. The End.
Check out the new chicken pictures below! The little darlin’s are ten weeks old as of Sunday and looking more chicken-like than ever. Believe it or not they will continue to grow until they reach a whopping six to eight pounds! They shall be quite voluptuous, like Peter Paul Rubens’ women. I would say that at present each chicken is pushing three pounds. It has been sad to see them lose their baby fluff, but the advantage of a big fat chicken is that it’s far more huggable.
Dorothy.... what the hell are you doing?
Dorothy basking underneath the blueberry bush
Dorothy's "crazy face" is pretty crazy.
Frances has grass!!!!
Annabel Lee really works those feathers, don't you think?
The Three Musketeers
Annabel Lee strikes an interesting pose...
Annabel's beautiful feathers
Frances is no longer impersonating Albert Einstein.
Welcome back to the present day! The ladies are six weeks old as of yesterday and they are looking a hell of a lot like chickens. They move like chickens! I can hear you saying, “Well, duh! They ARE chickens, stupid!”, but what you don’t understand is the fact that a mere five weeks ago they looked like eggs on legs! The comb that Frances has been sporting since day one is really pinking up. Everyday I tell her to remember that she’s a hen and there’s no place for transgendered chickens in my Eglu. Let’s hope she takes it to heart and stops turning into a rooster. Frances is also getting her “superfreak” on with her blue eyes! Every other picture I’ve seen of this breed shows bay colored eyes. It’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Hopefully someone in the know will read this post and enlighten me.
Frances at 6 weeks.
Frances flashing her baby blues.
The girls are simply mad about their Eglu. At dusk, they hightail it inside and cuddle up at the back to escape the creepy crawly black of night. When I let them out in the morning they literally burst through the door and descend like a plague on their “grub and glug”. Dorothy, being the smallest and most spastic, is often seen flitting from one to another in a frantic fit of feathers while the others do their best to keep her as far from them as possible. Oddly enough, it’s Dorothy who is turning out to be my lap chicken. She loves being held and doesn’t put up a fuss. While Annabel Lee and Frances have now mastered the art of attacking and eating baby crickets and grasshoppers, Dorothy (not surprisingly) remains out of the loop. She is my “special” chicken. Annabel Lee is as fat as ever and getting fatter. Though all three are continuing to bid for the highest place in the pecking order, it’s always Annabel who comes out on top.
Annabel Lee at 6 weeks
Annabel Lee. I know this is an exaggerated angle, but it really is funny how disproportionately small chicken heads are to the rest of the body.
Dorothy at 6 weeks.
Dorothy striking a pose in the garden.
Dorothy stalking a baby grasshopper. She was successful in catching the insect, but did not appear to understand how to eat it. Poor thing.
Here is a video I shot this morning of the girls emerging from the Eglu for their breakfast feasting. Hope you enjoy!
This post is very late! It’s supposed to be the one where I show you pictures of my ladies at five weeks of age. As of yesterday, however, they are six weeks old. We need to do a little time traveling to get back on track…
~WOOOOOOOOOOSH!!!!
There, that’s better.
Today my chicks are five weeks old. I celebrated by going to the Maryland Renaissance Festival with my high school buddy, Eric. It’s the second time we’ve been to this ridiculous place together. We piled in the car with his friend from college and I drove us all along, all the while thinking, “This is so very silly” and also “I’m so excited”. I’m sure Eric spends the whole year building up anticipation for slurping down mead and gnawing on turkey legs. The reality may not eclipse the lusty, greasy dream, but he sure looked happy clutching his chalice. He did not finish the leg. I found, as I always do, that I secretly wish I had the nerve to dress up like a beer wench. Again, reality intercedes; those costumes are damned expensive. I also do not have the bosom for it. Oh well. Once, while window shopping at match.com, I stumbled upon a gentleman with a username like “yourshiningknight” or some such nonsense. Thinking the poor dear had an overheated sense of romance, I thought I might as well amuse myself by reading what I perceived would be an incredibly gooey profile. Silly me. The fellow was a professional jouster employed by the Renaissance Festival. For all of us who go to events such as this one to escape our own reality, where do the people go for whom our dreamland is their reality? Hmmm…
Here are some pictures of the girls on their five week birthday. The biggest difference I’ve noticed between weeks 4 and 5 is to be found in the length of the tail feathers. You will also notice that they are no longer being kept in the shower! That’s right, folks! They have moved on to the Eglu, and there they will stay.
The chicks have made it through their fourth week and they are growing like mad! Frances has replaced Dorothy as the ragamuffin of the group. She looks a bit like Einstein. All of a sudden they are taking great delight in ripping their newspaper bedding to shreds. That’s really the only new development I have to share with you this week, apart from the new pictures. Next week they will be moving into their eglu home, and there they will stay, apart from the occasional garden romp.
Enjoy the new pictures!
Annabel Lee at 4 weeks. She's got class.
Dorothy at 4 weeks. Her feathers are actually looking quite lovely, and vary in color from gold to graphite.
Frances at 4 weeks. It looks like her head has been vigorously rubbed with cling film.
Earlier this summer I took a watercolor class at the Lorton Workhouse in Lorton, VA. When I was a wee thing, my parents enrolled me in watercolor classes at the home of Judy Wengrovitz, a well known watercolorist ’round these parts. My folks would drop me off every Saturday for three years and I would sit and learn and paint along with ten or so other children. Judy was a wonderful teacher and I was quite an eager student, but for some reason or another, I soon abandoned watercolor for some other interest. I didn’t get reintroduced to it until I went to college. If you major in illustration as I did, you really can’t avoid watercolor. It is the perfect illustrative medium. Three years later, I had finished graduate school in a program for art education where watercolor was again cast aside. I wanted to pick it up again, but I always feel that I don’t know where to begin. Enter Catherine Hillis.
Catherine’s class was described as “Watercolor Boot Camp”. My mother, who has taken a retirement induced enthusiastic interest in art, spotted the class in the Lorton Workshop catalogue. She figured she might as well add watercolor to her list of artistic pursuits and signed us both up. Catherine went over the basics, taught us some tricks (which we all promised not to tell anyone about), and put us to work. We had been instructed to bring photos to work from. I chose a photo taken by my late grandmother, the location of which remains unknown. Now, over a month later, I have finally finished it!
This time, the trick is not to stop here. I’m determined to keep it up and I want you to promise to give me a hard time if I don’t post new art projects here every month. Everyone needs a good verbal paddling every once in a while to stay on track. We’ll call it encouragement.
This week marked a few landmark events for both me and the chicks. I’ll start with mine. On Saturday, I made my first big investment in art and (probably) simultaneously received my first parking ticket. There is a wonderful art show at the Rehoboth Art League in Delaware every August. This year I went with my mother, an aunt, and a cousin. We took care to avoid all the lawns trimmed with red flags and parked behind a small row of cars, thoughtfully keeping off the grass. We then moseyed on through the event, popping in and out of the little white tents, each displaying the work of a different artist. I found that no matter which direction I took, I kept winding up in the tent of Jim Lemyre. Jim is half of a two-artist team that includes his wife, Lynn. They work on each painting together, taking inspiration from each other and conversing about their progress and direction. Their paintings are all at once whimsical, surreal, calming, and thoughtful. I wanted to leave with almost every painting I saw. By the end of our stay, I knew I had to buy something. I was particularly drawn to a painting called “Upwards” featuring a traditional forested landscape in the background. In the foreground sits a pale wooden ladder backed chair, the back of which eventually terminates in delicate tree branches with two tiny black birds preparing to fly from them. You can view the painting and others at the Lemyre’s website. I left the event happily clutching my purchase and feeling pretty great until I saw the ticket on my windshield. Apparently it is downright criminal to leave any of your four tires on the pavement when you park in this neighborhood. Fifty dollars will set you right if you commit this heinous crime. And heaven help you if you do it on a weekend because city hall is closed and the fine doubles every 48 hours. Joy! I immediately contacted the security officer on duty and put on my “pity me” face. It must have worked because he voided the ticket after I repeatedly stated that I’m from out of town and no signs were posted to warn non-locals to “Stay on the Grass!”. Woe is me, etc. So, thankfully, I left with my spirits intact and I’m on a mission to be sure this happens to no one else. I’m spreading to word to park on the grass!
Enough about me, let’s get back to the chicks! I believe that the chicks are now four times the size they were when they arrived. One morning last week I went down to replenish their feed and found all three hopping about on the floor. My behemoth Walmart bin failed me. These little buggers are flying all over the place. I solved this issue by sticking the birds in the glass enclosed shower stall downstairs. Once I had them settled I was sure to slap myself in the forehead for not thinking to do this all along. It’s perfect! The girls like being able to look out of the glass, and I like how they remind me of fish in an aquarium. Of course, their looks aren’t quite as fetching as they were two weeks ago. Their wings are nicely feathered out, but they’re getting new pin feathers in all sorts of silly places. It looks as if each new feather is wearing its own plastic turtle neck sweater with only the feather’s tip peeking over the top. It’s quite hilarious. I’ll leave you with new pictures of the girls taken yesterday on their three week birthday. Later alligators!
The girls in their new shower house.
Annabel Lee at 3 weeks. Notice the feathers coming in on her breast. She's ahead of the pack...
Frances at 3 weeks. She was not cooperating for this photo shoot. Chickens will be chickens, I suppose... =)
Dorothy at 3 weeks. Note an improvement on last weeks scraggly tail. She's still a bit of a ragamuffin though.
My goodness, it’s warm in that chick-room! I can’t wait until I can turn off the heat lamp. Today my chicks are two weeks old! Again, a resounding chorus of “Happy Birthday” would not be amiss. I can’t believe how much these gals have grown! Just get a load of those wings and tails! Remember that behemoth of a bin I swore would hold the birds for another two weeks? Well color me silly, ’cause all three birds can now fly to the rim. Oh bother. I might have to keep them in the enclosed shower down there to prevent any mischief. It’s such fun to watch them explore their growing flight ability. Frances has decided that she quite likes the view from the top of my head. Frankly, I don’t fancy being pooped on more than is necessary, so I remove her from this perch as quickly as possible. So far, so good. Dorothy is still shrimpy, but has grown in proportion to the other two. Annabel takes the cake for “fat and fluffy” while Frances takes the prize for height. I’m starting to worry that Frances might end up being a rooster. I’ve done some research at online forums and it seems that Barred Plymouth Rocks bear some tell-tale signs of gender even as peeps. I shall keep you posted about that development, but keep your fingers crossed that it just isn’t so.
"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! Fuzzy squeaky toys just for me!"
Ashby is still determined that the chicks should be his chew toys. I let him come with me today as I photographed the chicks. He was so excited, his little tail was going double-time. When the girls flew up to the rim to greet us, he was a bit taken aback. He attempted to give them a sniff, but Frances deftly pecked him on the nose. At this point the poor little guy pretended to lose interest. He turned his back on them and settled down in a pout with his nose between his toes. Oh well.
So, long story short, the girls are happy and healthy. I will leave you with a few pictures of them trying on their new feathers. They remind me of little kids trying on their mother’s clothes. Especially their big feet. Haha!
This is a recipe I got from a young man I dated for about a minute. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure what happened, but it was the most rewarding “relationship” I’ve had in months because out of it came this amazing recipe for kale. That’s right, I said “kale” and “amazing” in the same sentence! So give it a try and I promise you will never think of kale as nothing but a garnish again. You will need:
1 Bunch of kale
Olive Oil
Salt
Juice of 1/2 a lemon (or to taste)
1 Avocado, diced
2 Roma Tomatoes, diced
Spring Onions, thinly sliced (these are great but I prefer red onions)
Pine Nuts (optional)
Pour some olive oil and a tsp of salt over kale and massage it into the kale for a minute or two until it is softened and juicy (this is why it’s “sexy” kale). The texture of the kale should change completely. Add avocado, tomatoes, onions, and lemon juice. Toss and serve!
Let’s take a short break from chickens and get back to recipes! I really like veggies, especially greens, and this is my all-time favorite recipe for collard greens. This is actually a recipe I picked up at a Whole Foods back when they were called Fresh Fields. It’s delicious! You will need:
1 bunch of collards, chopped/stems removed
1 small onion, diced
1-2 cloves garlic depending on your taste, chopped
1-2 white potatoes diced
about a cup of V8 (really!)
about 1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese (or more if you like it as much as me).
Salt and Pepper to taste.
Olive oil
Saute onions in olive oil until clear. Add potatoes and garlic and cook until golden. Add V8 and bring to a simmer, until potatoes are cooked through. Add collard greens and cook until tender. Sprinkle with S&P and toss. Top with cheese and serve. Yum!
My goodness, it’s warm in that chick-room! I can’t wait until I can turn off the heat lamp. Today my chicks are two weeks old! Again, a resounding chorus of “Happy Birthday” would not be amiss. I can’t believe how much these gals have grown! Just get a load of those wings and tails! Remember that behemoth of a bin I swore would hold the birds for another two weeks? Well color me silly, ’cause all three birds can now fly to the rim. Oh bother. I might have to keep them in the enclosed shower down there to prevent any mischief. It’s such fun to watch them explore their growing flight ability. Frances has decided that she quite likes the view from the top of my head. Frankly, I don’t fancy being pooped on more than is necessary, so I remove her from this perch as quickly as possible. So far, so good. Dorothy is still shrimpy, but has grown in proportion to the other two. Annabel takes the cake for “fat and fluffy” while Frances takes the prize for height. I’m starting to worry that Frances might end up being a rooster. I’ve done some research at online forums and it seems that Barred Plymouth Rocks bear some tell-tale signs of gender even as peeps. I shall keep you posted about that development, but keep your fingers crossed that it just isn’t so.
