First I want to say that I think that perhaps that old groundhog Punxsutawney Phil should be fired and perhaps my chickens should be hired, because their egg laying is predicting an early spring.


They were all taking a really relaxing winter break at the end of December – when I was getting a measly 1-6 eggs a day, but all of a sudden they are laying faster than I can collect them. I got 29 the other day and have been getting over 2 dozen eggs daily all week. That’s crazy for this time of year, but I’ll take it. I’ll also be able to start up Free Range Friday’s* again

But today we had a cold day, and perhaps the chill in the air put some frisk in my little Kiki’s hooves, because she was full of piss and vinegar today.





I got some good clips of Kiki and grace playing as only goats can play together. It’s particularly funny when Princess Kate, my brown and white Tennessee Fainting Goat tries to join in the fun, which she does so in her rather stiff-legged way. But truly I have to give her an A+ for effort – she’s not much of a frolicker normally. Also entertaining is Grumpy Melina shaking her head no at all of their childish antics towards the end of the video.

And to update you on my injured Barred Rock hen, she’s eating and drinking well, and she laid an egg today! I was so excited to find it in her crate.


I’m afraid her left leg shows absolutely no sign of improvement though. I may break down tomorrow and take her to the vet. I think she’s a little depressed now too. I guess I would be too if I were in her situation. But Jim took her out of her crate tonight and set her up between two pillows on a towel, which was a great way to prop her up. She seemed to enjoy it.


Bullet takes his job very seriously here on the farm and insisted on keeping an eye on her.


He’s a long dog.


Notice how much closer he is now? He was doing the little creep crawl as I was feeding her.


And so passes another day on the farm.

* Free Range Friday’s is a weekly email blast I send out to my mailing list of local people where they can come on Friday’s and buy fresh eggs and anything else I may have for sale, like canned jams or my honey.

I’m sure you’ve heard me say how the goat’s hay racks are a favorite nesting box for the chickens. They practically have to take numbers like a deli counter to get their turn in there. It doesn’t happen often, but when the hay level gets very low (because certain piggy goats who shall remain unnamed have been eating too much), sometimes the chickens have trouble getting out of the racks when they’re done laying.

Such was the case last night when I went to lock up the farm. A barred rock was stuck half in and half out of the hay rack. I eased her out of there and held her for quite a while to stop her shivering. Then I tried wedge her between two hens in the coop, but she couldn’t grab onto the branch. I took her inside for the night.

I put her in a small crate in the mudroom for the night.



This morning right after I fed the farm I took her out and put her down to see if she was OK. She couldn’t walk at all. I picked her back up and we sat on the porch for a while so she could watch her friends. I wish someone was taking a video of the goats crawling all over me while I was just trying to have a peaceful moment with my chicken. I had my camera with me, so it was fun to catch some of the morning antics.And let me just tell you, it was not easy to take pictures balancing an injured chicken on my lap with 4 goats mauling me.







Her wings are fine and her right leg is fine. Something is wrong with the left leg, but it does not appear to be broken or dislocated. She does not appear to be in any pain. I’m just going to let her rest. She did not eat or drink all night, so this morning I gave her some water with a small syringe I have just for these occasions. By this afternoon she was drinking on her own again. Tonight, on my friend Sue’s advice, I mixed up some layer pellets with hot water to make a mash. To that I added a little chopped up fruit, vegetables and some yogurt. I had to really stick her beak into it for her to get a little taste of it at first, but then she happily ate quite a bit.




So I thought I’d have a naming contest for her. I don’t have names for all of my chickens. I’m too old to remember that many names. But this one certainly deserves a name. A good name. She’s a barred rock hen and she’s very calm and gentle. Send me your name suggestion in a comment. I guess to be fair I’ll have to choose a name with a random number generator, so don’t send in anything nasty or inappropriate. I’ll send the winner a set of my hen linoleum prints cards as a thank you.

In the continuing saga of strange eggs laid here on The Farm, the other day I got one that was striking in one unusual way.

Perhaps the girls were envious of belted galloway cattle.


Or perhaps they had a hankering to feel closer to the British Saddleback pig.


How they could be envious of these two animals having never laid their beady little eyes on one before is beyond me. Yet there it was, right in the nesting box.

It’s pretty common to have lighter markings on an egg, but this wide and distinct belt was a new one to me.

Having bid farewell to noisy Corn Flakes the rooster on Tuesday, I can now safely talk without offending him. The truth is he was a lousy rooster. King Strut was a good rooster. A rooster’s job is to protect his flock. They keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings and warn their flock of any dangers. They are the last one in the coop at night when they are sure that everyone is accounted for. They find tasty morsels of food and let the ladies have first crack at them. King Strut did all of these things. Corn Flakes was greedy and selfish. One of the first birds in the coop at night to claim the best roost. He leisurely made his way out of the coop in the morning and proceeded to jump on top of hen after hen, holding them down by their neck as he forcefully fornicated with them, and would push the girls out of the way to get to the best food. Really, he was no gentleman at all, and good riddance to him.


It is always fascinating to watch the hierarchal system of roosterness take place. Literally the day that Corn Flakes departed I noticed on several occasions the larger of the two Barred Rock roosters up in high places – on the compost bin, and up on the goat’s ramp. I had never seen this bird anywhere but on the ground before, yet there he was, appearing to be surveying his domain for predators and keeping his flock of ladies safe. I noticed at dinnertime that night he was up on the goat ramp again, surveying for danger while his ladies ate, forfeiting the most tender morsels of food. This morning Maia fed the farm so I could sleep in a bit, and she said he was the first one out of the coop and carefully watched as all the ladies came out for the day. How these tiny-brained birds instinctively know that the head honcho is gone and it’s time to take over fascinates me.

But then it happened. I was sitting at my computer this morning when out the window I saw him jump up onto the top of the fence.

He’s going to do some free-ranging I thought to myself.


Then all of a sudden he arched his back in that familiar rooster way and COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!


A little wing flapping to show everyone who’s the new boss…


And another COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!


Well, that didn’t take long.

I’m pleased to say that was the only crowing I heard all day. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time now though.

He got into a little test of wills with one of the girls a bit later though.

It’s not very creative, but since he’s a Barred Rock I think I’ll call him Rocky.