Farm Photo 11/22/07: Enjoying A Feast

Whitey & Her Chicks Back On July 30th

May you eat well today and every day of the year. Happy Thanksgiving.

A year of Farm Photos ago:
11/23/06: Thankful To Call This Place Home

Two years ago:
11/24/05: Year Round Thankfulness
11/24/05: Happy Thanksgiving To You

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares stories & photos of her crazy country life on 240 remote acres.

Farm Photo: 8/26/07

Capturing A Quiet Moment

More Chick Pics:
6/17/07: Whitey & Her Baby Chicks
6/19/07: Caution Foodie Forming
8/2/07: Inspection Time
8/3/07: Baby's First Perch
8/4/07: Baby's First Dustbath
8/5/07: Mother As Landing Pad
8/9/07: Showin' Some Style

Farm Photo: 8/9/07

Showin' Some Style

I keep picturing this chicken in itty bitty cowboy boots.

Unfortunately it's been showing more than style since this photo was taken back on June 24th. Specifically, it's been showing signs of being a rooster. Roosters don't lay eggs. Instead they spend their time strutting around and making lots of noise. The real tough ones go around picking fights.

The last time we mail-ordered baby chicks from a hatchery, we paid extra so they would all be pullets (females). But out of the 27 baby chicks that arrived in a small peeping box at the post office, nine of them turned into roosters. I'm convinced the chick sexer (how's that for a job title?) was on a break when our order was packed. There are varieties of chickens called 'sex-links,' and when these come crashing out of their eggs the girls already look different from the boys, but I didn't learn about them until after the roosters had arrived.

It was sort of fun at first, hearing that distinctive rooster crow. Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO! It made the farm feel more like a farm. But contrary to popular belief, roosters do not only crow at the break of dawn. At least not our nine roosters.

They crowed at all hours of the day and night, and boy, does that sound carry. We'd be heading up the driveway on a morning or afternoon walk, at least a quarter mile away from the farmyard, and suddenly you'd hear this Cock-a-doodle-doo! floating across the fields and into the woods.

"Wow," I said, the first time it happened. "You can really hear those roosters a long ways away." Joe simply shook his head in agreement. He's had more experience with roosters than he cares to remember.

"So how do I know if these chicks are hens or roosters?" I asked him a few weeks ago after returning from feeding Whitey and her rapidly growing brood yet another gourmet meal. They were putting on feathers, turning different colors, and taking on individual characteristics.

"We'll know soon enough," he replied, then hitched his deep voice up a few notches and said, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

There's nothing like a hunky farmguy crowing like a rooster. Now if I could just convince him that we need to keep one of these new boys around so he can fertilize some eggs. How else will Whitey be able to raise another batch of chicks?

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Many thanks to the nearly 200 of you who so kindly completed my five second survey (and for all those kind words -- wow). Your responses have been extremely helpful, and I'll be making some changes around here based on what you've told me. If you haven't yet taken part, I'd still love to have your input. Just click here -- it really does only take a few seconds.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo 8/5/07: Mama Whitey and Her Brood

Mother as landing pad

This gives a whole new meaning to 'letting your children walk all over you.' I took this photo back on June 14th, when Whitey's seven baby chicks were ten days old and beginning to figure out that if you flapped your wings, you could lift off the ground.

But the only place to set down once you were airborne was on mom's back, where the landing was soft but the terrain was uneven and slippery. This prime spot was highly coveted, and there were times when Whitey had two chicks wobbling on top of her while two or three others prepared to launch an invasion and claim the territory.

Whitey didn't seem to mind all this, apparently accepting it as simply one more thing that comes with being a mother.

I hadn't planned on putting up any more baby chick photos for a while, lest some of you who are more sheep/donkey/food/cat/whatever fans start to complain. But I changed my mind this morning when I brought Whitey and her little flock their first gourmet meal of the day.

The chicks go into a feathered frenzy every time I show up with food, chirping frantically while scurrying into the screened-in area where their wooden feed trough resides. As usual, I stood in the narrow doorway between the main chicken house and the dining room, bent over at the waist so I could empty the bowl of treats into the trough. I didn't do a head count first.

I heard flap! flap! flap! and felt a soft thunk.

There's a chicken on my back, I thought. Which was immediately followed by And I can't get a picture of it.

The feeling of having something jump onto my back while bent over wasn't completely unfamiliar, as the 4-1/2 pound Doodle Monster often uses me as a landing pad, though she usually swoops down from some higher perch rather than flying up from the ground. (Life with Molly Doodlebug is sort of what I imagine living with a demanding flying squirrel would be like.)

I contemplated the situation for a couple of seconds and then wiggled my back a little. The chick didn't budge. I turned my head around so I could look at it, wondering at the same time how long I could stay in this position and what in the world this chicken was thinking.

After a few more seconds it flapped back onto the ground behind me, then raced toward the treats as soon as I unblocked the doorway.

I didn't mind any of this. It was simply one more thing that comes with being a farmgirl. But I do wish I'd managed to get a picture.

Just tuning in to Whitey Watch? Click here and scroll to the bottom to begin at the beginning.

© FarmgirlFare.com, the always full of surprises foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 8/4/07

Baby's First Dustbath
(Taken June 15th)

Wondering what's with all the chick pics? Click here, then scroll down to the bottom to begin at the beginning of this whole Whitey Watch business.

A year of chicken photos and stories ago:
--7/19/06: Cats Aren't The Only Curious Critters
--7/20/06: A Tree Goes Down & Lindy Goes Missing
--7/21/06: And Sheeeeeeee's SAFE!
--7/28/06: Lindy & Whitey Offer Help To Donkey Doodle Dandy
--8/01/06: Chickens Love Company
--8/13/06: Everybody Gets Tomatoes This Time Of Year

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 8/3/07

Baby's First Perch

This photo of two of Whitey's chicks was taken back on June 18th. The baby on the left is the one in yesterday's photo. Look how much smaller its wings and tail feathers are here, just six days earlier.

When I set up this training perch a few inches off the ground, several of the chicks immediately hopped over and flapped their way up onto it. They obviously loved it, but most of them would sit facing the wrong direction, staring into the corner of the coop. It looked so funny. Then one by one they figured out that if you turned the other way, you could see all the action without having to spin your head around like an owl.

Just tuning in to Whitey Watch? Click here, then scroll down to the bottom to begin back at the beginning.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 8/2/07

Wall Inspection





Farmgirl Inspection

It's hard to believe that Whitey's not-so-little-anymore chicks will already be two months old on Saturday. It's been so much fun watching them grow up, especially since I've never had a mother hen raise a flock of chicks before.

I've been taking lots of photos, but I seem to have gotten a little behind sharing them (so what else is new?). I've been sorting through them all and figured I'd just randomly post some of my favorites, like these two, which were taken back on June 24th. This is the chick that started out pale yellow. They sure don't stay small and fluffy--or even the same color--for long. Feathers simply appear out of nowhere.

All seven chicks are doing just fine, but a lot of the photos aren't very good. Baby chickens do not like to stand still.

Just tuning in to Whitey Watch? Click here, then scroll down to the bottom to begin back at the beginning.

© FarmgirlFare.com, the rapidly growing foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 6/19/07

Caution: Foodie Forming

A year of Farm Photos ago:
6/19/07: Real Still Life (chickens a year ago too)
WDB#39: Lucky Buddy Bear loves his sheep so much he licks them dry when they get wet

Welcome new visitors!
Click here for a brief introduction to this site.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo 6/17/07: One Happy Mama Hen

Whitey and one of her baby chicks on June 6th

Mother Goose has nothing on Whitey. She's no spring chicken, but this old girl has taken to her new role like a duck to water. According to my research, Whitey, who is over seven years old, should technically be dead. Instead she's having the time of her life raising seven darling baby chicks.



Whitey with seven chicks showing on June 6th

At two weeks of age, her inquisitive brood has become quite a handful, and they're growing up faster than you can say "Oh my god are they cute!" The last few days they've been taking flying lessons. I've caught a couple of them stretching out their new little wings in a "Hey! Look what I've got!" way.

We've had baby chicks on the farm before, but they arrived by mail without a mother hen in sight, so this is a whole new experience for us, too. My friend was thoughtful enough to bring Whitey a variety of eggs to hatch out, and it looks like we ended up with six different types of chickens, including an adorable little black one.



One day old and keeping close to Mom

There are lots more photos and baby chick tidbits to share. In the meantime, cross your fingers that they don't all turn out to be roosters!

Just tuning in? Catch up here:
Farm Photo: 6/1/07: Whitey Gets Her Wish
Farm Photo 6/3/07: Waiting With Whitey
6/4/07: Peep!Peep!Peep!
Farm Photo 6/4/07: We All Need A Little Shuteye
Farm Photo: 6/5/07: I'm Just Waitin' On A Friend

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the peep peep peeping foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 6/5/07

I'm Just Wai-tin' On A Friend

Wondering what this is about? Catch up here:
Farm Photo: 6/1/07: Whitey Gets Her Wish
Farm Photo 6/3/07: Waiting With Whitey
6/4/07: Peep!Peep!Peep!
Farm Photo 6/4/07: We All Need A Little Shuteye

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 6/4/07

There'll be more photos and details tomorrow, but right now we all need a little shuteye. It's been quite a day!

Just tuning in? Catch up here:
Farm Photo: 6/1/07: Whitey Gets Her Wish
Farm Photo 6/3/07: Waiting With Whitey
6/4/07: Peep! Peep! Peep!

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

Just seconds after I took this photo. . .

A baby chick came crashing out




They may look a bit scraggly at first. . .

But they cute up real quick!

More details & cuteness to come.

This is Day 22 of Whitey Watch.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo: 6/3/07

Waiting With Whitey

8:04am

Note: If you're just tuning in, read this first.

We've been off the farm most of the day (couldn't be helped), and I was sure I'd miss all the hatching action. I had horrifying visions of fluffy newborn chicks accidentally flinging themselves off the edge of the nesting box and thudding onto the ground four feet below, but fortunately they went unfounded. I arrived home a few hours ago to find Whitey looking much the same as she did when I left this morning, but I was too curious to simply leave her be. I wanted to see what, if anything, was going on underneath all that puffed up plumage.

The second I reached my hand toward Whitey she began pecking me to death, but I had outsmarted her by donning enormous protective fireplace/welding gloves in preparation of her attack. Okay, it was really Joe who outsmarted her, as the gloves were his idea, but he has a lot more experience with chickens than I do. Remember he's the one who taught me that the best way to catch a wayward chicken is with a net.

7:24pm

Anyway, the gloves worked beautifully, and I was able to pick up Whitey and have a quick peek at the eggs without losing any blood in the process. Boy was she pissed off. That girl has got glaring down to an art.

There were at least two eggs that showed signs of cracking, but nothing had actually hatched. So it looks like the only thing I'll be missing out on is a good night's sleep. I wonder if Whitey wants coffee. Oh yeah, and there are now two white eggs in with the rest.

This is Day 21 of Whitey Watch.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo 6/1/07: Whitey Gets Her Wish!

Two days after I posted these photos of Whitey The Chicken and announced that she was trying to hatch an unfertilized egg, I wangled a friend (who happens to read my blog) into leaving the craziness at her farm to come work the 91 sheep on mine. Okay, so I may have bribed her with the promise of large quantities of garden bounty and homemade baked goods. Whatever works is what I say.

She pulled up in a shiny red pickup truck and immediately started rummaging around the front seat, announcing that she had brought me some "genuine, certified, bonafide, honest-to-goodness, all natural, farm fresh, super duper, fantastic fertilized eggs for your poor chicken!" Then she triumphantly held out an egg carton, lifting the lid so I could see the gorgeous colored eggs inside. What a wonderful surprise gift.

"Okay, so how many do you think I should give Whitey, two?"

"The whole dozen of course."

"The whole dozen?"

"Well how big is she?"

"Not very."

As we tramped over to the henhouse, my friend explained that the first thing we needed to do was get the unfertilized egg out from underneath Whitey and throw it away because it was probably rotten. I explained that Whitey had recently switched nesting boxes and currently didn't actually have any eggs underneath her. But she was still spending all her time just sitting around as if she did.

Whitey glared at us. My friend, who makes fun of me for kissing my lambs and naming my sheep ("I got over that years ago") started cooing at Whitey in this sweet little voice, telling her how she was going to be so happy, how she would be able to arrange her eggs just the way she wanted them and then settle herself down on top of them. She said some other things that were really funny, but I was too nervous to remember them.

"I think you should be the one to put the eggs under Whitey," I told her. "She pecks. And it hurts."

"She's just a chicken!"

"She's not just a chicken. She's Whitey. She's, um, unique. Do you want gloves?"

"I don't need gloves." And then she had the nerve to laugh at me.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."


Day 1

But I am a wimp, and my friend is not. She carefully wrapped her hand around an egg and gently tucked it under Whitey. Peck!Peck!Peck!

"That's gotta hurt."

"She's just a chicken!" There may have been a little eye-rolling and head shaking, too, but I try not to pay attention to that stuff when I know I'm the cause of it. She tucked a couple more eggs under Whitey. Peck!Peck!Peck!Peck!PECK!

"Oh shoot. I knew I should have brought my camera."

She sighed, stopped tucking, and told me to go get my camera.

"Are you bleeding from all that pecking? Do you need peroxide?"

"Of course I'm not bleeding. She's just a chicken!"

I returned with my camera and attempted to capture the perfect action shot.

"Can you hold your hand there a little longer? I really want to get one of Whitey pecking you." Yes, I actually said that out loud. I still can't believe it.

"So how long does it take for the eggs to hatch?"

"Twenty-one days. Mark your calendar."

"But she's already been sitting in there like a week."

"Doesn't matter. She'll be able to feel the chicks moving inside the eggs, and she'll stay."


Day 7

I know nothing about hatching baby chicks, but apparently Whitey does. She's been faithfully sitting on those eggs all this time, only hopping down every once in a while to load up on food and water and terrorize her two coopmates. For a small chicken, Whitey is looking very big. She has puffed herself up in order to cover all of her eggs.

She spends her days in some sort of a mother-to-be trance that appears to be part zen, part coma. She is still fully alert on some level, though, because any time I put my hand near her she snaps out and tries to peck me.



Whitey broke two of her eggs early on (hey, it happens), so the official count is now ten. This morning, however, I happened to show up while Whitey was having breakfast, and when I counted to make sure there were still ten eggs I kept coming up with eleven. A bright white egg was staring up at me from the middle of the pile--and it was definitely too big to be Whitey's, as she lays itty bitty eggs.

This means either one of the other two hens jumped into Whitey's nesting box instead of one of the three other empty ones and laid an egg when Whitey was off stretching her legs, or Whitey somehow stole an egg out of another nesting box and moved it into hers.

Things have been hectic around here lately, and today was the first chance I've had to look through our copy of Chickens In Your Backyard. We usually order newborn chicks through the mail from a large hatchery, so (and this is pretty embarrassing to admit) I never thought that Whitey would be doing any actual mothering once the eggs hatched. I just figured that the babies would be on their own. But the book informs me that when deciding how many eggs to put under a hen, you must remember that once the chicks hatch they all have to be able to fit under the mother at night because that is where they sleep.

Whitey has been living with us for seven years, and in all that time I must admit that I've never ever thought of her as even remotely being the motherly type. This ought to be interesting. And I don't have much longer to find out.

This is Day 19 of Whitey Watch.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the fine feathered foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.

Farm Photo 5/12/07: Just in time for Mother's Day. . .

Whitey's gone broody!

Seven years old, and suddenly she wants to hatch an egg. She's been sitting in that nesting box nearly 24/7 for a week—on an unfertilized egg that isn't even hers.

And I have noooo problem with that.

June update: Whitey got her wish!

© FarmgirlFare.com