I have three chickens that live in the pastures with my waterfowl.
Klaus, my half-bantam rooster who was getting beat up by my standard sized boys before he was moved in with the ducks.
Goldie, my only bantam hen, who was moved in with the ducks to protect her from getting squashed by the big boys, here pictured with a very young Klaus.
And Golden Girl, one of Goldie's daughters who somehow snuck her way into the waterfowl pastures and took up residence there with the other two chickens.
Goldie and Golden Girl worked together earlier this year to hatch out a group of chicks. They shared parenting for a couple of weeks, but Goldie eventually took full control of the chicks, leaving Golden Girl acting cranky for a few days.
When Golden Girl quit acting cranky I knew she'd gone back to laying, but I couldn't find her eggs anywhere. She wasn't laying in the usual spots. I finally gave it up, thinking maybe I was mistaken, and continued on with life as usual. I have way more eggs than I know what to do with, anyway, so I wasn't prioritizing figuring out what was going on.
Several days passed, and one day when I went to pull out some straw in the goose coop I found them; there, on the very top of the straw bale, lay several beautiful little greenish blue eggs. I couldn't figure it out. I've been keeping the goose coop closed during the day so that no one gets in there to tear up the straw bales, so she shouldn't have had access to lay her eggs there. The next day I paid special attention during morning chores, making sure she wasn't secretly slipping in while I was letting out the geese. Nope, she stayed out. It was a mystery until a couple days later, when I just happened to look up at the coop as I was wandering around refreshing water bowls.
Golden Girl was on the wire top of the coop, laying her egg through the wire! With beautiful aim, her egg plopped down safely on top of the straw bale. Okay, I'm not sure I'd make the same choices if I were a hen, but I wasn't going to question her too deeply. I let her do her thing and continued collecting the eggs.
But I suppose she felt my reaction wasn't of a suitable level of surprise. One day she flew up there, laid her egg, and continued sitting.
. . . and sitting . . .
. . . and sitting . . .
. . . and getting adorably poofed up and growly when I approached to investigate this unending sitting.
This crazy chicken, for reasons known only to herself, had decided that the most ideal place to go broody would be from the wired top of a goose coop, suspended several inches above the eggs she hoped to incubate!
I took pity on my poor girl tonight and gathered some eggs into a pet crate, which I placed inside the duck coop. It didn't take much coaxing to convince her the new situation was preferable, and she's happily settled in. Something tells me that if I hadn't done this, though, Golden Girl, never flitting, would still be sitting, still be sitting
On the wired bit of fencing just above my goose coop door;
And her eyes with all the seeming of a broody’s that is dreaming,
And the moon-light o’er her streaming throws her shadow on the floor;
And her eggs from out that shadow that lies in straw above the floor
would be hatched—nevermore!
Klaus, my half-bantam rooster who was getting beat up by my standard sized boys before he was moved in with the ducks.
Goldie, my only bantam hen, who was moved in with the ducks to protect her from getting squashed by the big boys, here pictured with a very young Klaus.
And Golden Girl, one of Goldie's daughters who somehow snuck her way into the waterfowl pastures and took up residence there with the other two chickens.
Goldie and Golden Girl worked together earlier this year to hatch out a group of chicks. They shared parenting for a couple of weeks, but Goldie eventually took full control of the chicks, leaving Golden Girl acting cranky for a few days.
When Golden Girl quit acting cranky I knew she'd gone back to laying, but I couldn't find her eggs anywhere. She wasn't laying in the usual spots. I finally gave it up, thinking maybe I was mistaken, and continued on with life as usual. I have way more eggs than I know what to do with, anyway, so I wasn't prioritizing figuring out what was going on.
Several days passed, and one day when I went to pull out some straw in the goose coop I found them; there, on the very top of the straw bale, lay several beautiful little greenish blue eggs. I couldn't figure it out. I've been keeping the goose coop closed during the day so that no one gets in there to tear up the straw bales, so she shouldn't have had access to lay her eggs there. The next day I paid special attention during morning chores, making sure she wasn't secretly slipping in while I was letting out the geese. Nope, she stayed out. It was a mystery until a couple days later, when I just happened to look up at the coop as I was wandering around refreshing water bowls.
Golden Girl was on the wire top of the coop, laying her egg through the wire! With beautiful aim, her egg plopped down safely on top of the straw bale. Okay, I'm not sure I'd make the same choices if I were a hen, but I wasn't going to question her too deeply. I let her do her thing and continued collecting the eggs.
But I suppose she felt my reaction wasn't of a suitable level of surprise. One day she flew up there, laid her egg, and continued sitting.
. . . and sitting . . .
. . . and sitting . . .
. . . and getting adorably poofed up and growly when I approached to investigate this unending sitting.
This crazy chicken, for reasons known only to herself, had decided that the most ideal place to go broody would be from the wired top of a goose coop, suspended several inches above the eggs she hoped to incubate!
I took pity on my poor girl tonight and gathered some eggs into a pet crate, which I placed inside the duck coop. It didn't take much coaxing to convince her the new situation was preferable, and she's happily settled in. Something tells me that if I hadn't done this, though, Golden Girl, never flitting, would still be sitting, still be sitting
On the wired bit of fencing just above my goose coop door;
And her eyes with all the seeming of a broody’s that is dreaming,
And the moon-light o’er her streaming throws her shadow on the floor;
And her eggs from out that shadow that lies in straw above the floor
would be hatched—nevermore!
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