The White Rocks, bred over decades for insatiable appetites and rapid growth, and likely to just eat, drink and SIT once they get growing, are behaving like CHICKENS! Every morning the door opens, three quarters of the 40 burst out on the run, tearing around, facing off in sudden skirmishes, and eventually settling down to scratch in the grass. At five weeks, they’ve practically doubled in size from when they arrived, they eat feed like maniacs, BUT, they do get out… We’ll see if all this exercise makes a difference as they keep growing and growing at their startling rate—for now at least, they seem happy and active and knocking back the bugs!
chickens
This year’s chickens
The White Rocks have arrived. Yes, 40 more White Rock Cornish X males, here for the fattening and then away for the slaughter. We got two-week-olds for the same reason as last year: save time and care with so many things going on! Their new chickenhouse isn’t quite ready, so I set up temporary quarters in the barn, 2×10’s surrounding a 4×8 sheet of plywood. A brand new feeder and waterer, some fresh wood shavings, and they’re let loose to do what they do best: EAT! (But there are PLANS to get them properly outside this time, eating bugs and romping in the dirt…)
See ya, goats and chickens…
Doing the last rounds on the old farm, saying farewell to chickens and goats. Here, a bunch of the girls (goats) are chomping away on hay, and the eight cockerels are enjoying a day in the cold sun. They seem to be getting on well, there used to be usually one low guy running a little scared, but since they’ve been kept in for a bunch of supercold days, all has apparently been worked out and they stick togther now. Of course, who knows what’s going on in the chicken mind?! The goodbye is not any formal thing—a little ceremony, perhaps?!—just something in my head. Ends and beginnings are weird, before and after we can make as much or as little of ’em as we like, but the actual fact happens in a blink. It looks like I’ll do the big main farming move on Sunday. The farm sale doesn’t close for a couple of months, so I’ll be back here in March (hey, that’s only next month already!) for the greenhouse and to dig up some herb transplants. Meanwhile, I’ve given Bob the chickens (the girls are laying away, the guys, well, they’re past their tender meat-bird prime…and looking good), so they’re be well taken care of. And I’m looking around these last days with slightly new eyes at the familiar stuff I’ll be leaving… :)
Chickens on egg
Another (quiet) farm day, another fine distraction from the chickens’ bag of entertaining tricks: swarming on stuff! This happened to be a piece of a semi-frozen egg that I found in the deep litter. The egg had probably been buried since yesterday, insulated, frozen to the point of cracking, but not yet hard as rock. I broke it open to take a look, and accidentally dropped a big chunk. BAM, the girls were on it in a mad rush, a totally focussed frenzy, like nothing else in the world even existed. If it was anything but the wee friendly girls, that sort of swarming would be kinda scary. As it is, it was fun to watch. Crazy chickens.
Chickens standing around
I’ve been keeping the eight guys indoors most days lately, opening up their door only when the sun is out. They still seem little worse for the wear after weeks of roaming around in the sub-zero cold. They’ve suffered a little frostbite to the tips of their combs, likely from the severest cold nights in the coop, and there’s no sure way around that short of insulating and heating the chickenhouse (Bob said that happened even with 300 layers sharing body heat). Some days, they seem to like just standing around in the snow, even when there’s feed, warm water once or twice a day, and comfy dry litter at home. They often stand on one leg at a time, keeping the other one warm…
Chickens want in
It’s officially WINTER, finally, and now the days get longer… Yay. Chickens and snow are the only real farm action around here at the moment, although things are going to get real busy really soon! Meanwhile, there’s always CHICKENS. On one hand, the 25 girls are productively laying away in the chilly but still kinda snug chickenhouse. They do eat eggs, with gusto, but I don’t think any of them have turned into egg-breaking fiends, although the investigation is ongoing. And then there are the guys, past their meat-bird prime, and now a bit of a puzzle—if you’re not gonna eat ’em, why are they here?—but fun to watch, especially on ice (and still really economical on feed). Every day, they come up with a new, apparently random decision on whether to head out into miserable weather, or not. Today, they decided to exit the coop, but then made straight for the main lower barn door, where they’ve been trying to get in for hours. If they want back in, why wait till dark, why not GO HOME NOW? Do they expect me to lead them? Carry them? (Can chickens really play checkers?)
Barn shortcut
A rear-end view of the cows leaving the barn has become a familiar every-morning sight. For the last few weeks, since the weather took a turn for the freezing, I’ve been walking through the dim lower barn, toting buckets of warm water and feed, on the way to the chickenhouse. In nice weather, it’s easier and more pleasant to walk outside through the barnyard. This route has the advantage of no wind and no icy patches. It’s a bit of a winding road: into the minimally heated well pump room (heated so the pipes don’t freeze) where the 40kg (88lb) sacks of feed are stored, out the inner door into the dark and chilly lower barn, head down past the empty milking stalls (from dairy farm days), straight towards the window into the loafing barn where the cows come in at night, hard left, down another stretch between pens, unlatch a side door, head outside for a short walk, and it’s in with the chickens… A new daily routine for my first winter with the birds.