The adventures of Barbara (BR)

Speckled Sussex Taming

Since the Chickie Girls were worked up anyway, what with the bantam rocks trying to take over their big coop, the Chickendads decided to sort some of the birds out into different groups. After all, Bob the Bald Ameraucana probably should not make babies with the BLRW girls. The babies would probably turn out like a box of crayons had exploded on them.

The Sussex Girls transferred to the breezeway pen to avoid the bigger Chickie Girls pushing them around and playing “Chicken in Charge.” Of course, that title belongs to Barbara, but she was glad the Sussex Girls were out of there and not hogging the nest boxes. The Sussex Girls were sweet and nice, but some of their "porch lights" were out, so she had to constantly repeat her “lessons” to the Sussexes. Of course, that made them more inclined to hide in the boxes, but as Barbara has more attitude than brains, she kept repeating her lessons—work harder, not smarter, Barbara says.

Chickenboy visited the other day and called a Chicken Taming Association meeting to discuss the Sussex hens.

“Grandma,” he said, “I think that Sussex girl is a boy!”

“No,” said Mrs. Chickendad, “I’m sure she has been laying eggs.” So the CTA took a field trip to the breezeway to verify the sexes of the spotted chickens.

“See, Grandma, she’s a boy! She has a big red comb and pointy neck feathers, and her tail sticks up different from the others.”

Mrs. Chickendad looked again. “I do believe you are right,” she told Chickenboy. “That is definitely a rooster!”

Later that day, the Sussex cockerel began to overcome his gender confusion and take charge of his little flock. Chickenboy spent some time taming him, and later the little cockerel began to crow in that gargling, cat strangling manner of young roosters. The move has given him a surge of confidence, but his porch light is still pretty dim.

The Sussex cockerel and his Mama (for comparison):
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"The babies would probably turn out like a box of crayons had exploded on them."
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Well, perhaps, but, man!, what a sight that would be! As always, MrsChickendad, you and yours add pleasure to my day. Thanks! Caroline
 
Aw, I love Barbara! She sounds so much like my black mix-chicken, Yanna. I'll post a picture, I guess!
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Here she is all prettied up...


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Here she is tight-rope walking like Barbara...
 
Quote:
There is definitely a barred rock in her ancestry. She looks like an excellent tightrope walker!

It has been bitterly cold here, so the Chickie Girls have been staying in the coop. Chickendad put a space heater in there to come on when the temp drops below 40º. The Chickendads are busy trying to get ready for Christmas and finding gifts for Chickenboy and his cousins, the Chickenchildren. An update is forthcoming—not necessarily an adventure, but an update.
 
Quote:
There is definitely a barred rock in her ancestry. She looks like an excellent tightrope walker!

It has been bitterly cold here, so the Chickie Girls have been staying in the coop. Chickendad put a space heater in there to come on when the temp drops below 40º. The Chickendads are busy trying to get ready for Christmas and finding gifts for Chickenboy and his cousins, the Chickenchildren. An update is forthcoming—not necessarily an adventure, but an update.

Mrs Chickendad, my chickie girls need advice from Barbara and her friends: What to do when you're cooped on cold days? Our EE "Roaster" and her best friend "Mr. Peeps" are dutifully putting up with Miss Chloe's 9 pullet/roo babies, which is something to do, but still are complaining of boredom. Also, complaining there's no way to dig to China for tasty bugs, as everything is frozen solid. They pitifully grumble as they are forced to Eat The Chicken Feed, after first picking through it for invisible surprises.............

What do your chickies do with themselves on cold cooped up days?

 
My "barbara" decided that life in the coop was too dull so she knocked knocked over the bag of BOSS. I went into the coop and found her, full fat and happy stuck inside the overturned bag. She waddled over to the water drank several mouthfulls and looked up at the perches, way... way... up in the sky. Then she looked back at me. I gave in, and picked her pudgy butt up and set her on the perch. She happily pecked the hen next to her as if to say " boy did YOU miss out on the party in the BOSS bag."
 

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