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Had myself a good cry last night, sniffling and snorfling through tears for a while. No chocolate in the house except some Hershey's syrup and was considering pouring that directly into my mouth from the container, but my good friends HH and FL came to my rescue with some chocolate "donettes" they picked up at Gray's Market on their way over.
Various observations about the day, in no particular order:
The old fella taking George, Alex, Cardigan and three hens had AMAZING eyebrows. It was hard not to study them more than actually look into his eyes. You gotta be really old to grow an impressive pair o' brows like that. I privately asked his companion if he was going to be able to care for the birds because he seemed quite .... as well worn as I would hope to be at about two hundred years old. He reassured me the old guy would be perfectly able to care for the chickens. I am concerned about what he'll feed his new flock - he said he had cracked corn for them and asked if the hens needed layer feed. Auuugh! I showed him a bag of Nutrena All Flock I feed everybody, adding the need for crushed oyster shell on the side. No, don't mix it with the feed. He's had chickens before, but it was in the loooong past. He was very taken with George and Alex, equally "excited" to have Cardigan with his feathered legs and feet. I gave him one of the Josies, the last Cinnamon Queen, and a Buckeye hen, telling him the Buckeye is a mouser. So George isn't the only rooster; he's got his brother Alex, plus Cardigan, which could easily be one of their sons through Little Bit, my bantam dark Brahma.
Alex was the hardest of that group to give up. He was so calm and trusting in my arms when I gathered him off the roost to put in a box. He's been a very good rooster. However, he's just as loud as his obnoxious brother. Alex has occasionally bowled George right over when George got into his stealth mode, planning to flog my ankles when I wasn't paying attention. Alex don't truck with George being stupid with The Treat Lady. I only had to walk Alex backwards ONCE more than a year ago - George got that treatment every few weeks.
Wilbur, who went with the nice lady who's got her own copy of Storey's Guide to Raising Poultry all marked up with flags and highlighted bits, deserves his own harem. He's a gentleman rooster, very diligent - and loud! - as a look-out for danger, really quite handsome in a dorky way (he was hilariously odd-looking until his head and comb grew into a size more suitable to his big chunky body). His new owner wanted layers for an instantly productive flock. Hence the Cinnamon Queens. When she asked for a third hen of a different "look" for variety, I settled on the Delawegger for her green eggs. She paid me for her, and a deposit on a BO pullet from the Chicken Kindergarten in future weeks.
I'll be visiting Gray's Market, the Mt. Aukum "General Store," and the Pokerville Market in Plymouth to remove the fliers. I'm done giving up roosters - and ANY hens - for a while.
Carl, Charlie, Nugget, Frick, Hitchcock and Bernard are the permanent roo residents. Any little cockerels growing up from the NYD Hatch will go to the Freezer Camp over at HH and FL's place before I get too attached to them. Because I am participating in Mahonri's Third Annual Easter Hatch, the same plan goes for any putative cockerels. As well as any from the clutch under the current broody in the coop.
This morning the Olmstead Homestead is quite less noisy. Good thing, too, as I have a red wine headache.
But the 2008 Bella Piazza Divini was very good with chocolate donettes.
I did have a panic moment when I couldn't find Carl this morning, luckily he was just dust-bathing with his favorite ladies in a sunny spot. Whew!
Blaze, the little Escapee Bunny, has been amusing me with her wanderings on the property. She goes into the coop quite a bit - this morning she was noshing on some chicken feed right out of a feeder. I've put alfalfa cubes in two places she also frequents, once of which is behind the rabbit hutch on the porch where her sister is still incarcerated. I have not seen hide nor hair of the momma bunny or the three other "baby" bunnies which the geese released a few weeks ago. Blaze frequents the porch a great deal but is still eluding capture. At this point, I think I'll just leave her be. She's surviving quite comfortably and does sleep behind the hutch at night. She putters around the yard, drinking from the poultry waterers and duck kiddie pools, suns herself here and there, and seems content. None of the poultry bother her, although occasionally a goose will stretch out its neck at her. She changes direction when that happens and hops somewhere else. Clever bunny, that Blaze.
I opened the French door onto the deck today, to drink my first cup of coffee out there. It's the South side of the house, so it gets most of the sun from about 10 AM on. Got the kitchen stool upon which to sit in that sun. Lizbeth came out, cautiously, but then mewed and rubbed up against my legs. After going back inside and coming out a couple of times, she's gone a' wandring in the yard. I am hoping she will come back into the house on her own.
Zorro came out and sat dreamily in the sun, too.
Last night, I wished I had given up the chickens on Monday, so I could go to work Tuesday and be busy there, rather than thinking about "my loss" all weekend long. I'd also have had a couple more days with 'em, but that really wasn't a desire formed on a foundation of common sense. It was just feeling sorry for myself. Oh, woe is me, I had to give up some roosters and some hens. Life is horrible, I hate my neighbors. Bleaaahhh.
Today, I have a quieter, calmer flock I can appreciate. I was lucky to get good homes for the boys and a few hens I hadn't even named yet. I let my pets name themselves, by discovering their personalities, and goodness, but I've only been able to interact with 'em on my weekends, with the winter daylight hours so short. I never saw them during the week except when I was disturbing them in the coop after dark to fill their feeders and check on 'em when I got home from work. I didn't know those particular pullets that well, as they were only seven months old or less. (I was careful to NOT select Queenie, the one Buckeye who has made her name known to me.)
Joey, the remaining bantam cockerel hatched by Little Bit, is not well, so I didn't give him to the old guy. He's been sequestering himself in the coop, hiding in a secret place I know. I give him his food and water separately but there's something going on with him that doesn't bode well. The old guy had asked about Joey, as he'd been mentioned but not pictured in the flyer. No, not giving away a probable sick bird, sorry. The guy has a lake on his property and he offered to let me visit with my geese to let them swim there sometimes - what an ODD idea! Like I'm gonna transport a huge pair of Toulouse geese and leave 'em there for a few days for a lake spa weekend or something? Then come pick 'em up again? I kindly refused that offer. Besides, John's gonna build a 10 x 15 pond for the waterfowl right here.
There hasn't been a single crow-fest since the early morning chorus inside the coop at 5 AM. Carl is tending to the flock - and getting in that extended dust bath this morning - instead of standing on the porch railing crowing to announce he's The Boss of This Flock.
So, yes, it's been a Good Thing. And there goes Blaze again, across the yard and up onto the porch to nibble on some alfafa cubes.
Edited to add: Lizbeth just came back into the house to mew at me and wind around my legs. It's gonna be a great Sunday.
Various observations about the day, in no particular order:
The old fella taking George, Alex, Cardigan and three hens had AMAZING eyebrows. It was hard not to study them more than actually look into his eyes. You gotta be really old to grow an impressive pair o' brows like that. I privately asked his companion if he was going to be able to care for the birds because he seemed quite .... as well worn as I would hope to be at about two hundred years old. He reassured me the old guy would be perfectly able to care for the chickens. I am concerned about what he'll feed his new flock - he said he had cracked corn for them and asked if the hens needed layer feed. Auuugh! I showed him a bag of Nutrena All Flock I feed everybody, adding the need for crushed oyster shell on the side. No, don't mix it with the feed. He's had chickens before, but it was in the loooong past. He was very taken with George and Alex, equally "excited" to have Cardigan with his feathered legs and feet. I gave him one of the Josies, the last Cinnamon Queen, and a Buckeye hen, telling him the Buckeye is a mouser. So George isn't the only rooster; he's got his brother Alex, plus Cardigan, which could easily be one of their sons through Little Bit, my bantam dark Brahma.
Alex was the hardest of that group to give up. He was so calm and trusting in my arms when I gathered him off the roost to put in a box. He's been a very good rooster. However, he's just as loud as his obnoxious brother. Alex has occasionally bowled George right over when George got into his stealth mode, planning to flog my ankles when I wasn't paying attention. Alex don't truck with George being stupid with The Treat Lady. I only had to walk Alex backwards ONCE more than a year ago - George got that treatment every few weeks.
Wilbur, who went with the nice lady who's got her own copy of Storey's Guide to Raising Poultry all marked up with flags and highlighted bits, deserves his own harem. He's a gentleman rooster, very diligent - and loud! - as a look-out for danger, really quite handsome in a dorky way (he was hilariously odd-looking until his head and comb grew into a size more suitable to his big chunky body). His new owner wanted layers for an instantly productive flock. Hence the Cinnamon Queens. When she asked for a third hen of a different "look" for variety, I settled on the Delawegger for her green eggs. She paid me for her, and a deposit on a BO pullet from the Chicken Kindergarten in future weeks.
I'll be visiting Gray's Market, the Mt. Aukum "General Store," and the Pokerville Market in Plymouth to remove the fliers. I'm done giving up roosters - and ANY hens - for a while.
Carl, Charlie, Nugget, Frick, Hitchcock and Bernard are the permanent roo residents. Any little cockerels growing up from the NYD Hatch will go to the Freezer Camp over at HH and FL's place before I get too attached to them. Because I am participating in Mahonri's Third Annual Easter Hatch, the same plan goes for any putative cockerels. As well as any from the clutch under the current broody in the coop.
This morning the Olmstead Homestead is quite less noisy. Good thing, too, as I have a red wine headache.

I did have a panic moment when I couldn't find Carl this morning, luckily he was just dust-bathing with his favorite ladies in a sunny spot. Whew!
Blaze, the little Escapee Bunny, has been amusing me with her wanderings on the property. She goes into the coop quite a bit - this morning she was noshing on some chicken feed right out of a feeder. I've put alfalfa cubes in two places she also frequents, once of which is behind the rabbit hutch on the porch where her sister is still incarcerated. I have not seen hide nor hair of the momma bunny or the three other "baby" bunnies which the geese released a few weeks ago. Blaze frequents the porch a great deal but is still eluding capture. At this point, I think I'll just leave her be. She's surviving quite comfortably and does sleep behind the hutch at night. She putters around the yard, drinking from the poultry waterers and duck kiddie pools, suns herself here and there, and seems content. None of the poultry bother her, although occasionally a goose will stretch out its neck at her. She changes direction when that happens and hops somewhere else. Clever bunny, that Blaze.
I opened the French door onto the deck today, to drink my first cup of coffee out there. It's the South side of the house, so it gets most of the sun from about 10 AM on. Got the kitchen stool upon which to sit in that sun. Lizbeth came out, cautiously, but then mewed and rubbed up against my legs. After going back inside and coming out a couple of times, she's gone a' wandring in the yard. I am hoping she will come back into the house on her own.

Last night, I wished I had given up the chickens on Monday, so I could go to work Tuesday and be busy there, rather than thinking about "my loss" all weekend long. I'd also have had a couple more days with 'em, but that really wasn't a desire formed on a foundation of common sense. It was just feeling sorry for myself. Oh, woe is me, I had to give up some roosters and some hens. Life is horrible, I hate my neighbors. Bleaaahhh.
Today, I have a quieter, calmer flock I can appreciate. I was lucky to get good homes for the boys and a few hens I hadn't even named yet. I let my pets name themselves, by discovering their personalities, and goodness, but I've only been able to interact with 'em on my weekends, with the winter daylight hours so short. I never saw them during the week except when I was disturbing them in the coop after dark to fill their feeders and check on 'em when I got home from work. I didn't know those particular pullets that well, as they were only seven months old or less. (I was careful to NOT select Queenie, the one Buckeye who has made her name known to me.)
Joey, the remaining bantam cockerel hatched by Little Bit, is not well, so I didn't give him to the old guy. He's been sequestering himself in the coop, hiding in a secret place I know. I give him his food and water separately but there's something going on with him that doesn't bode well. The old guy had asked about Joey, as he'd been mentioned but not pictured in the flyer. No, not giving away a probable sick bird, sorry. The guy has a lake on his property and he offered to let me visit with my geese to let them swim there sometimes - what an ODD idea! Like I'm gonna transport a huge pair of Toulouse geese and leave 'em there for a few days for a lake spa weekend or something? Then come pick 'em up again? I kindly refused that offer. Besides, John's gonna build a 10 x 15 pond for the waterfowl right here.
None of the house has been painted - that wall is the one that gets the sun all day long and is the most weathered. John said, "Once I'm done with the deck, we'll power-wash this side of the house and I'll do some repairs to that siding so it can be painted. Then you'll just have three sides of the house left to paint later." I know it's bugging him every day he's out there working on the deck.Just one little question if you don't mind. It looks like the lower half of your house has been painted, but not up top. Is John doing that, or was it done prior to your move-in? I can see where he caulked the tops of some of the boards, and now they will be under a roof, which is good.
There hasn't been a single crow-fest since the early morning chorus inside the coop at 5 AM. Carl is tending to the flock - and getting in that extended dust bath this morning - instead of standing on the porch railing crowing to announce he's The Boss of This Flock.
So, yes, it's been a Good Thing. And there goes Blaze again, across the yard and up onto the porch to nibble on some alfafa cubes.
Edited to add: Lizbeth just came back into the house to mew at me and wind around my legs. It's gonna be a great Sunday.
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