I guess that it is to be expected that anything within one's care will eventually push your buttons and test the limits of your patience...everything else that I have and/or have ever had has at one time or another. However, it has been over six years since my DH and I have had very young critters in our care, so we apparently lost sight of that. No worries, though, because our 4 week old chickens reminded us last evening....
Background:
This is our very first experience with chickens. Of all of the creatures we've kept/raised/dealt with in the past or still do, chickens were never one of them. It's always good to broaden your horizons, though, so after passively talking about raising some chickens over the past few years, we finally took steps to make it happen. We even just put the finishing touches on our run this past weekend. We were planning to move them out into their coop and run permanently at 6 weeks of age.
In the mean time we were keeping them in a big rubber swimming pool in our bedroom. Not an ideal location, but not bad. The original plan had been to keep them in the guest room, but we ended up with weekend guests the last 3 weekends and moving the brooder around was too much of a chore. So they stayed in our room, getting completely cleaned out twice a week. Worked great. We could easily check on them and maintain temperatures. They got lots of exposure to us and our other animals, which all went very well and made them quite amenable to handling. Everything was juuuuust peachy!
Yesterday:
I wrap up at work and head down to the metro station to start my long trek home. I hop the metro only to hear an announcement on the train that the line I need to get to my next station was currently closed (single tracking planned soon), and delays would be 1-2 hours. 1-2 hours would have ensured that I miss all of my potential trains home. Urgh. So I call my DH to come pick me up at an alternate locations (because he works not TOO far off from one of the metro line end points), and because he's a great guy, he comes and gets me.
We go through two epic thunderstorms to get to a little restaurant for dinner (which was my compensation to him for picking me up). Two more huge storms roll through while we're having dinner, and a fifth is traversed to get back home. All the while, we were discussing the chickens. I was worried we'd get home too late to take them out to the run for some time to stretch their wings and legs like we usually do with them in the evenings. We also talked about when we should move them out on a permanent basis. Their bodies were starting to catch up with their wings and tails and a few were getting pins on their heads. We had repeatedly read that you should wait until they're fully feathered, which would be at about 6 weeks, so ultimately we came back to that number before getting home for the evening.
As we pull into the driveway, I commented that we still had some light left, so I'd bring them out for a bit. My DH went in to check on them while I put some things away. As he opens the door, I hear him say, "Uuuuuhhhh, greeaat..." I asked what and started back to see what was going on. He had the door mostly closed and was still peering in as though trying to block my view. I push the door open as he says, "The chickens got out."
Two of them were sitting contentedly on the cat tree. A third was sitting on the floor beneath them. The other two appeared to have been wandering about and as soon as they saw me they bolted and leaped back into the brooder. Half of my bedroom floor (carpeted) was pocked with chicken poop. They had also manged to spread their wood chips around and had even carried one of their little plastic toys (a twist of thick plastic that was designed as a cat toy, but was enjoyed much more by the chickens than our cats) out of the brooder. Absolute MESS. I turned around and marched down the hall, grabbed my smartphone, and checked the weather; temps weren't supposed to dip below 70 anywhere in the 10 day forecast. I therefore delcared, "The chickens move outside NOW."
I took them all out to the run immediately, then grabbed the Anti-Icky-Poo and started cleaning. I picked up everything that was able to be picked up while my DH began spraying and scrubbing everything left. As darkness fell, I went out to make sure the chickens ended up in the coop. It was a chore as they much prefer to roost on US as compared to anywhere else, but I eventually got them all into the coop and shut all of the doors. They huddled up at the pop hole and quieted down almost immediately. Then back to cleaning for another hour or so....
This morning, the chickens were all there and doing fine. My DH called in "sick" to rent a steam cleaner and do a more thorough cleaning of the carpet. He said that when he opened the coop up to let the chickens out that it took them over an hour to actually decide to do so.
They were perfectly fine, and once they were out they mucked about the run as usual.
They are so adorable, but oooooooooooh I was mad!
Assuming the temperatures remain as they have, everything should be fine. The electric fence will be added and complete within a few days, so then it's all 100 percent. Those little feathered devils...
Background:
This is our very first experience with chickens. Of all of the creatures we've kept/raised/dealt with in the past or still do, chickens were never one of them. It's always good to broaden your horizons, though, so after passively talking about raising some chickens over the past few years, we finally took steps to make it happen. We even just put the finishing touches on our run this past weekend. We were planning to move them out into their coop and run permanently at 6 weeks of age.
In the mean time we were keeping them in a big rubber swimming pool in our bedroom. Not an ideal location, but not bad. The original plan had been to keep them in the guest room, but we ended up with weekend guests the last 3 weekends and moving the brooder around was too much of a chore. So they stayed in our room, getting completely cleaned out twice a week. Worked great. We could easily check on them and maintain temperatures. They got lots of exposure to us and our other animals, which all went very well and made them quite amenable to handling. Everything was juuuuust peachy!
Yesterday:
I wrap up at work and head down to the metro station to start my long trek home. I hop the metro only to hear an announcement on the train that the line I need to get to my next station was currently closed (single tracking planned soon), and delays would be 1-2 hours. 1-2 hours would have ensured that I miss all of my potential trains home. Urgh. So I call my DH to come pick me up at an alternate locations (because he works not TOO far off from one of the metro line end points), and because he's a great guy, he comes and gets me.
We go through two epic thunderstorms to get to a little restaurant for dinner (which was my compensation to him for picking me up). Two more huge storms roll through while we're having dinner, and a fifth is traversed to get back home. All the while, we were discussing the chickens. I was worried we'd get home too late to take them out to the run for some time to stretch their wings and legs like we usually do with them in the evenings. We also talked about when we should move them out on a permanent basis. Their bodies were starting to catch up with their wings and tails and a few were getting pins on their heads. We had repeatedly read that you should wait until they're fully feathered, which would be at about 6 weeks, so ultimately we came back to that number before getting home for the evening.
As we pull into the driveway, I commented that we still had some light left, so I'd bring them out for a bit. My DH went in to check on them while I put some things away. As he opens the door, I hear him say, "Uuuuuhhhh, greeaat..." I asked what and started back to see what was going on. He had the door mostly closed and was still peering in as though trying to block my view. I push the door open as he says, "The chickens got out."
Two of them were sitting contentedly on the cat tree. A third was sitting on the floor beneath them. The other two appeared to have been wandering about and as soon as they saw me they bolted and leaped back into the brooder. Half of my bedroom floor (carpeted) was pocked with chicken poop. They had also manged to spread their wood chips around and had even carried one of their little plastic toys (a twist of thick plastic that was designed as a cat toy, but was enjoyed much more by the chickens than our cats) out of the brooder. Absolute MESS. I turned around and marched down the hall, grabbed my smartphone, and checked the weather; temps weren't supposed to dip below 70 anywhere in the 10 day forecast. I therefore delcared, "The chickens move outside NOW."
I took them all out to the run immediately, then grabbed the Anti-Icky-Poo and started cleaning. I picked up everything that was able to be picked up while my DH began spraying and scrubbing everything left. As darkness fell, I went out to make sure the chickens ended up in the coop. It was a chore as they much prefer to roost on US as compared to anywhere else, but I eventually got them all into the coop and shut all of the doors. They huddled up at the pop hole and quieted down almost immediately. Then back to cleaning for another hour or so....
This morning, the chickens were all there and doing fine. My DH called in "sick" to rent a steam cleaner and do a more thorough cleaning of the carpet. He said that when he opened the coop up to let the chickens out that it took them over an hour to actually decide to do so.
They are so adorable, but oooooooooooh I was mad!
