summerb123
Free Ranging
haha! my chickens know when it is food time b/c they know what the bucket looks like....so I change the bucket out every other day!
Ended Official BYC Mini Contest #2 - Tell us your best chicken story and you c
- Thread starter sumi
- Start date
haha! my chickens know when it is food time b/c they know what the bucket looks like....so I change the bucket out every other day!
Do they really fall for that trick? Mine assume anything in my hand is a treat
summerb123
Free Ranging
Do they really fall for that trick? Mine assume anything in my hand is a treat, and get quite fussy if I am carrying something to the shed instead.
yeah but the rooster knows
LitteHawkFarm
In the Brooder
- Nov 25, 2016
- 15
- 1
- 16
Hello,
I'm Travis, owner of Little Hawk Farm in California. We raise chicken for meat and eggs, guinea fowl, turkeys, goats,cats, dogs and kids. We found our love for barnyard birds 2 years ago living in the Santa Cruz Mountains when we bought our first chickens, 4 barred rock and 2 brown leghorns and were given 2 bantam barred rocks. We picked up 2 blue wheaton ameraucanas and a lavender maran, although she was feathered like a silkie and the body of a maran. We have always free ranged our flock and lost all but 6 before moving to our new farm in Mendocino County, Ca.
I preparation for our move to 20 flat beautiful acres we bought 400 feet of PermaNet and 2 engergizers, ordered 50 hatchery choice chicks from Whitmore Farms and picked up old nesting boxes from an organic farm from in Santa Cruz.
Days prior to our move I decided that it would be a great idea to get 50 "ready to lay" hens from craigslist, 25 from two separate sellers. So, the day of the move I loaded up the last of our vehicles and off we went. My big white truck with 4x8 plywood sides and a plywood back, with only a mattress in the back. My friend had his mini van loaded like the Beverly Hillbillies followed by a U-haul. I split off from the two just outside San Jose on my way to my first chicken pick up, at a Baskin Robins. The guy gave me five boxes of five birds and sent me on my way. The nice lady at my next stop helped me load up 5 more boxes of five and again I was on my way, this time to our new home.
In a serendipitous turn of events our 3 vehicles managed to find each other on the 101 north of San Rafel and we were only 2.5 hour away from home. As we were going through Petaluma I saw my mattress start to float in my rear view mirror . I quickly pulled over to secure it when I got the call, "Dude, you just lost the plywood and 5 boxes on the freeway!"
I started to freak out. A short time later the CHP approached and asked if I owned the chickens a mile back, I said yes and he told me that we were to secure things enough to get off his freeway and then make the big fixes.
My buddies arrived shortly after, we made our fixes, secured our load and headed home, this time with no more stops. When we uloaded the birds when we got home we realized that we did not lose one bird, and had a BLRW snuck in the mix of our sex-links.
Over the course of the last 9 month we have had our share of ups and downs, we suffered a lot of loss and gained much knowledge. Both have had the same effect, giving us more drive to learn and improve.
Our hope here is to learn and network with other like minded farmers. We are striving to be a fully self sustaining farm.
I'm Travis, owner of Little Hawk Farm in California. We raise chicken for meat and eggs, guinea fowl, turkeys, goats,cats, dogs and kids. We found our love for barnyard birds 2 years ago living in the Santa Cruz Mountains when we bought our first chickens, 4 barred rock and 2 brown leghorns and were given 2 bantam barred rocks. We picked up 2 blue wheaton ameraucanas and a lavender maran, although she was feathered like a silkie and the body of a maran. We have always free ranged our flock and lost all but 6 before moving to our new farm in Mendocino County, Ca.
I preparation for our move to 20 flat beautiful acres we bought 400 feet of PermaNet and 2 engergizers, ordered 50 hatchery choice chicks from Whitmore Farms and picked up old nesting boxes from an organic farm from in Santa Cruz.
Days prior to our move I decided that it would be a great idea to get 50 "ready to lay" hens from craigslist, 25 from two separate sellers. So, the day of the move I loaded up the last of our vehicles and off we went. My big white truck with 4x8 plywood sides and a plywood back, with only a mattress in the back. My friend had his mini van loaded like the Beverly Hillbillies followed by a U-haul. I split off from the two just outside San Jose on my way to my first chicken pick up, at a Baskin Robins. The guy gave me five boxes of five birds and sent me on my way. The nice lady at my next stop helped me load up 5 more boxes of five and again I was on my way, this time to our new home.
In a serendipitous turn of events our 3 vehicles managed to find each other on the 101 north of San Rafel and we were only 2.5 hour away from home. As we were going through Petaluma I saw my mattress start to float in my rear view mirror . I quickly pulled over to secure it when I got the call, "Dude, you just lost the plywood and 5 boxes on the freeway!"
I started to freak out. A short time later the CHP approached and asked if I owned the chickens a mile back, I said yes and he told me that we were to secure things enough to get off his freeway and then make the big fixes.
My buddies arrived shortly after, we made our fixes, secured our load and headed home, this time with no more stops. When we uloaded the birds when we got home we realized that we did not lose one bird, and had a BLRW snuck in the mix of our sex-links.
Over the course of the last 9 month we have had our share of ups and downs, we suffered a lot of loss and gained much knowledge. Both have had the same effect, giving us more drive to learn and improve.
Our hope here is to learn and network with other like minded farmers. We are striving to be a fully self sustaining farm.
Good story, glad to see you entered!
alyssaallycat
Chirping
- Feb 14, 2016
- 83
- 13
- 51
The Story of An Unlikely Crazy Chicken Lady
Most of my earlist memories are set in two locations- my daycare, a place called Country Friends, where we were encouraged to grow and learn how to care for nature (I saw my first chicks hatch in their small incubator, small and cute, at age 4- a recollection that still sticks with me today) and my grandfather's farm. There, I saw farm life as it was- sometimes easygoing and rewarding, other times consisting of tough decisions that had to be made with haste. It was there I saw what adult chickens looked like: scary to a 6 year old, with pointy beaks and sharp nails. This left me with a fear of chickens, with chicks seeming like a different species apart from the scary hens that tormented me when I was asked to collect the eggs.
Skip over 7 years, and my mother, sister, and I are driving down the freeway, discussing- at that point- my unborn baby twin cousins, who were having to be c-sectioned early and put into a incubator machine to help their small lungs and hearts function. My 8 year old sister was fascinated with the idea of incubation, and asked if there was anything WE could incubate.
"Well, there's always chickens." My mom replied.
So for Christmas, my sister wished for an incubator for Christmas, and Santa delivered. It was all planned- my grandfather would give us the eggs, and we would hatch them, raise them to 4-6 weeks old, then send them to his farm. So the eggs went in the incubator.
Keep in mind, my family knew NOTHING about incubating chicks. I cringe thinking about it now- we went off of brief Internet searches and snipets of info from blogs. We were absolutely clueless. But by some miracle, these two RIR chicks hatch, and my complete indifference to the chicks thus far vanishes.
We go on a late night shopping trip to provide a proper brooder for the two fluffballs (Ellie and Fern), and despite our complete lack of knowledge, the chicks seem to be growing fast and healthy. But then, Ellie's leg seems to break. The joint swells. Soon both chicks have black scabs on their joints. We take them into the only vet that treats birds- only to have to have them put down for a disease transferred from hen to egg. There was nothing to be done.
It was and still is incredibly sad to me, but this little taste of what chickens are to raise gets my research brain a whirling. Soon I'm buying and borrowing chicken books and spending 4 hours a day on Google and this lovely site, learning about the types of coops and feather patterns and broodiness. Chickens are suddenly fascinating and beautiful to me, and it opens a whole world of shows and fairs and online blogs like this one that I had been unaware of this whole time.
I now have two wonderful amazing beautiful gorgeous girls- one buff orpington named Buffy and an Americana named Essie, and living and raising and loving them has given me more knowledge, about chicken math and green eggs and locations of all the farm stores in my area. I've met friends through our mutual love of chickens, and bonded more with my grandfather learning the tips and tricks of animal husbandry. And now everyone knows how to make me talk- invoke the words "I wonder how many chicken breed there are?"
In conclusion to a long story, however unlikely it was that chickens are my new love when I used to fear them, chickens have given me a new vocabulary of pullet and broody, and shown me a responsibilty of raising and loving a creature besides myself.
And honestly, even if I would have to go through the confusion, loss, and the making of a 42 slide presentation convicting my parents to let me get chicken after the first time to get where I am today, I would.
Life is pretry random, am I right?
Most of my earlist memories are set in two locations- my daycare, a place called Country Friends, where we were encouraged to grow and learn how to care for nature (I saw my first chicks hatch in their small incubator, small and cute, at age 4- a recollection that still sticks with me today) and my grandfather's farm. There, I saw farm life as it was- sometimes easygoing and rewarding, other times consisting of tough decisions that had to be made with haste. It was there I saw what adult chickens looked like: scary to a 6 year old, with pointy beaks and sharp nails. This left me with a fear of chickens, with chicks seeming like a different species apart from the scary hens that tormented me when I was asked to collect the eggs.
Skip over 7 years, and my mother, sister, and I are driving down the freeway, discussing- at that point- my unborn baby twin cousins, who were having to be c-sectioned early and put into a incubator machine to help their small lungs and hearts function. My 8 year old sister was fascinated with the idea of incubation, and asked if there was anything WE could incubate.
"Well, there's always chickens." My mom replied.
So for Christmas, my sister wished for an incubator for Christmas, and Santa delivered. It was all planned- my grandfather would give us the eggs, and we would hatch them, raise them to 4-6 weeks old, then send them to his farm. So the eggs went in the incubator.
Keep in mind, my family knew NOTHING about incubating chicks. I cringe thinking about it now- we went off of brief Internet searches and snipets of info from blogs. We were absolutely clueless. But by some miracle, these two RIR chicks hatch, and my complete indifference to the chicks thus far vanishes.
We go on a late night shopping trip to provide a proper brooder for the two fluffballs (Ellie and Fern), and despite our complete lack of knowledge, the chicks seem to be growing fast and healthy. But then, Ellie's leg seems to break. The joint swells. Soon both chicks have black scabs on their joints. We take them into the only vet that treats birds- only to have to have them put down for a disease transferred from hen to egg. There was nothing to be done.
It was and still is incredibly sad to me, but this little taste of what chickens are to raise gets my research brain a whirling. Soon I'm buying and borrowing chicken books and spending 4 hours a day on Google and this lovely site, learning about the types of coops and feather patterns and broodiness. Chickens are suddenly fascinating and beautiful to me, and it opens a whole world of shows and fairs and online blogs like this one that I had been unaware of this whole time.
I now have two wonderful amazing beautiful gorgeous girls- one buff orpington named Buffy and an Americana named Essie, and living and raising and loving them has given me more knowledge, about chicken math and green eggs and locations of all the farm stores in my area. I've met friends through our mutual love of chickens, and bonded more with my grandfather learning the tips and tricks of animal husbandry. And now everyone knows how to make me talk- invoke the words "I wonder how many chicken breed there are?"
In conclusion to a long story, however unlikely it was that chickens are my new love when I used to fear them, chickens have given me a new vocabulary of pullet and broody, and shown me a responsibilty of raising and loving a creature besides myself.
And honestly, even if I would have to go through the confusion, loss, and the making of a 42 slide presentation convicting my parents to let me get chicken after the first time to get where I am today, I would.
Life is pretry random, am I right?
On Liz’s 17th birthday, while playing games at the dining room table, kids running up and down the deck, swimming, and making all manner of chaos, I saw one of our Barred Rocks slip behind the barbeque and hop in the bottom where the propane tank sits, through a rear opening. One of our guests saw it too, making some sort of “Guess she doesn’t know how fond people are of a good chicken barbeque!” comment. I decided to wait it out a bit and see what happened.
After a fairly long wait, I mentioned the situation to my husband. He was not too terribly interested in having a chicken turn his barbeque into a nesting box and asked me to get her out. I took my camera (because it was kind of funny)
but barely caught a pic of her backside as she skeedaddled out the back! Blondie! (I know, not a blonde speck of feather on her, but for a while she had yellow paint on her head!)
The next few days, all three of our Barred Rock girls were making trips up on the deck, scoping out various corners, even collecting a random pine needle that had fallen here and there. Thankfully the dog houses got the “No” vote from the trio -probably a smell thing – but I could tell they were not going to be satisfied laying eggs in their proper nesting boxes.
So, in a weaker moment, I found a shipping box, filled it with hay, and placed it where Esme had been collecting pine needles.
Suddenly, that box was the most interesting place in all our little farm! Every bird had to come up (even the non-layers) to try it out. It was especially attractive to our trio of black and white deck girls, so it was no surprise, one afternoon, to see Blondie hop in and make a thorough inspection. I went about my normal business, when suddenly I heard the “I just laid an egg!” call (not to be confused with, “I want to lay an egg, but somebody’s in my favorite box!” which is very similar, but with a distinctly edgy quality).
I went out on the deck, expecting to see a proud little hen coming out of the box. But, there was no bird, and there was no egg in the box. The egg call was coming from the barbeque! The sneaky little creature had switched laying areas! When I opened up the door, she scrambled out the back again – but she left evidence behind:
slightly sooty, yet perfect little light brown egg! “Blondie! You sneaky little thing, you!”
Needless to say, after that day, we made sure to check the barbeque for eggs. I thought how funny it might sound to other people when Liz comes in from egg collecting and I ask , “Did you check the Barbeque?”
It does seem like this may have just been one of those isolated “fluke” incidents, because she has faithfully used the box ever since. But every now and then, we still check…
After a fairly long wait, I mentioned the situation to my husband. He was not too terribly interested in having a chicken turn his barbeque into a nesting box and asked me to get her out. I took my camera (because it was kind of funny)
The next few days, all three of our Barred Rock girls were making trips up on the deck, scoping out various corners, even collecting a random pine needle that had fallen here and there. Thankfully the dog houses got the “No” vote from the trio -probably a smell thing – but I could tell they were not going to be satisfied laying eggs in their proper nesting boxes.
Suddenly, that box was the most interesting place in all our little farm! Every bird had to come up (even the non-layers) to try it out. It was especially attractive to our trio of black and white deck girls, so it was no surprise, one afternoon, to see Blondie hop in and make a thorough inspection. I went about my normal business, when suddenly I heard the “I just laid an egg!” call (not to be confused with, “I want to lay an egg, but somebody’s in my favorite box!” which is very similar, but with a distinctly edgy quality).
I went out on the deck, expecting to see a proud little hen coming out of the box. But, there was no bird, and there was no egg in the box. The egg call was coming from the barbeque! The sneaky little creature had switched laying areas! When I opened up the door, she scrambled out the back again – but she left evidence behind:
Needless to say, after that day, we made sure to check the barbeque for eggs. I thought how funny it might sound to other people when Liz comes in from egg collecting and I ask , “Did you check the Barbeque?”
It does seem like this may have just been one of those isolated “fluke” incidents, because she has faithfully used the box ever since. But every now and then, we still check…
summerb123
Free Ranging
Well here is the story of Pepper the special needs Easter Egger cockerel
(sorry don't have a phone yet and that is the only photo i have of him)
well we started out with 5 EE chicks less than a month old.Blossom, Gypsy Brooklyn, no name (which is now Pepper), and Goldie they were very very happy chicks! Than they went down hill fast...my favorite chick Blossom was a happy little chick, but here and the others health slipped. They got sick and one day i came home and my Blossom wilted away into chicken heaven. The others were quickly fading away also, only Pepper was going strong! After a week or two of Blossoms death Brooklyn passed away she was a tiny little thing with lots of heart until her tiny little heart stopped to on her. I was devastated! As I regained hope with the others a sudden death struck...my Gypsy was a little perfect chick and I loved her until the end! It was down to two chicks, Pepper and Goldie both were cockerels. They were both healthy but once again Goldie's health turned for the worst.. i came home and he had went to chicken heaven. He was a feisty one but I loved that little bugger! Pepper the little survivor was the only one left all alone, no one likes him the rooster attacked him and the hens pecked him.I was the only thing he had left, the others left this earth and the rest rejected him like a CD player. He is a meracle! I was his only friend which is me! My cousin named him Moco at first but it didn't fit him! He got the name Pepper b/c I let him out when my grandma and I where picking peppers and Pepper decided to try a pepper and then i couldn't keep him away it was a workout to keep him away and that is how he got the name Pepper! Pepper is a real snuggler too! If you sit down on the ground when Pepper is out he will get in your lap and rest his head on your leg and fall to sleep! And how he loves when you pet him! One of the best things are , that the he comes when called and he follow you around! He has a scissor beak......so it is hard to eat and keep things down but some how he manages too do it but i have to clean his beak were it will not close he is calm when i do it b/c its a daily thing for us both. He does like to ride in my shoulder and arm! OMG just amagine all the snuggles i get!!!!!! Just here recently he has found a new friend (my older sister). She loves him! She was laying on the concrete with Pepper on her chest petting him, and all the sudden a Buzzard flew by and Pepper sounded the predator alarm! It was adorable! And know is attempting to crow!He is so spould!(he even comes inside the house!)
it turns out my Pepper is a girl!!!
my sweet heart!
On Liz’s 17th birthday, while playing games at the dining room table, kids running up and down the deck, swimming, and making all manner of chaos, I saw one of our Barred Rocks slip behind the barbeque and hop in the bottom where the propane tank sits, through a rear opening. One of our guests saw it too, making some sort of “Guess she doesn’t know how fond people are of a good chicken barbeque!” comment. I decided to wait it out a bit and see what happened.
After a fairly long wait, I mentioned the situation to my husband. He was not too terribly interested in having a chicken turn his barbeque into a nesting box and asked me to get her out. I took my camera (because it was kind of funny)
The next few days, all three of our Barred Rock girls were making trips up on the deck, scoping out various corners, even collecting a random pine needle that had fallen here and there. Thankfully the dog houses got the “No” vote from the trio -probably a smell thing – but I could tell they were not going to be satisfied laying eggs in their proper nesting boxes.
Suddenly, that box was the most interesting place in all our little farm! Every bird had to come up (even the non-layers) to try it out. It was especially attractive to our trio of black and white deck girls, so it was no surprise, one afternoon, to see Blondie hop in and make a thorough inspection. I went about my normal business, when suddenly I heard the “I just laid an egg!” call (not to be confused with, “I want to lay an egg, but somebody’s in my favorite box!” which is very similar, but with a distinctly edgy quality).
I went out on the deck, expecting to see a proud little hen coming out of the box. But, there was no bird, and there was no egg in the box. The egg call was coming from the barbeque! The sneaky little creature had switched laying areas! When I opened up the door, she scrambled out the back again – but she left evidence behind:
Needless to say, after that day, we made sure to check the barbeque for eggs. I thought how funny it might sound to other people when Liz comes in from egg collecting and I ask , “Did you check the Barbeque?”
It does seem like this may have just been one of those isolated “fluke” incidents, because she has faithfully used the box ever since. But every now and then, we still check…
Good story and nice to have pictures to go along with it!
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