We had some drama today, though not nearly the amount Sally Sunshine has gone through, not even close. I didn't know whether to post about my own events or not, I'm feeling so much for her right now. Hang in there! Much love from all over the country, and probably the world, is headed your way!
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The patched egg is no more.
Long story short, I think Java must have known it was bad and kicked it out of the nest, then the chickens took care of it: the dreadful algebra of necessity, as Terry Pratchett would call it.
Long story long: the chickens raised an alarm near dusk, and for the first time I did not run to check things out right away. I went out more slowly, and all the chickens had retreated to the coop, and there was a pile of white fluffy feathers in the yard, and there was a hawk sitting on the chicken-yard fence.
Eliot, the head rooster and a white Silkie, came out of the coop looking very alert but okay. I did a beak count and all were present. I picked up both white Silkies and looked them over, and found no apparent injuries. Right then and there I decided Eliot has a place in our coop for the rest of his life.
It started to rain hard, and I had to calm down, so I stayed in the coop and went over to Java to check on her eggs. The patched egg was gone -- completely. No trace. The rain pounded so I had time to go over the whole coop. I found some nest-holes under the nest-box structure, which is hung about 8 inches off the floor. And I found a tiny, light pink egg under there. So one more hen has begun to lay.
But no patched blue-green egg. I finally found what looked like a small folded rag in the bedding. It was about half of the blue-green eggshell, including the patch, and brown from dirt. The rest of the egg was gone.
I’m sad but not terribly surprised that the egg didn’t make it. And I’m glad it had a good use as protein for the chickens, as disturbing as that sounds.
--------------------------------------------------------
The patched egg is no more.
Long story short, I think Java must have known it was bad and kicked it out of the nest, then the chickens took care of it: the dreadful algebra of necessity, as Terry Pratchett would call it.
Long story long: the chickens raised an alarm near dusk, and for the first time I did not run to check things out right away. I went out more slowly, and all the chickens had retreated to the coop, and there was a pile of white fluffy feathers in the yard, and there was a hawk sitting on the chicken-yard fence.
Eliot, the head rooster and a white Silkie, came out of the coop looking very alert but okay. I did a beak count and all were present. I picked up both white Silkies and looked them over, and found no apparent injuries. Right then and there I decided Eliot has a place in our coop for the rest of his life.
It started to rain hard, and I had to calm down, so I stayed in the coop and went over to Java to check on her eggs. The patched egg was gone -- completely. No trace. The rain pounded so I had time to go over the whole coop. I found some nest-holes under the nest-box structure, which is hung about 8 inches off the floor. And I found a tiny, light pink egg under there. So one more hen has begun to lay.
But no patched blue-green egg. I finally found what looked like a small folded rag in the bedding. It was about half of the blue-green eggshell, including the patch, and brown from dirt. The rest of the egg was gone.
I’m sad but not terribly surprised that the egg didn’t make it. And I’m glad it had a good use as protein for the chickens, as disturbing as that sounds.
