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When I was watching the girls today, I noticed Lyle picking up some unknown food item. As soon as he grabbed it and lifted his head, Muffet snatched it from his beak. He looked slightly puzzled as to where his prize went.
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Rainwolf:
I have been making German pickles for a week now.
"Senfgurken" are made from fully ripe cucumbers.
When they are big and yellow, usually end of September or beginning of October, we peel and core them, salt them well and let them sit overnight and then put them up in a mustard and black pepper brine.
Hard to find those cucumbers around here so we have to grow our own.
I'll bring some to our next get together and you can decide if you want the recipe for your book.
 
We've been having hawk problems recently. One of my girls tussled with a Red-tailed hawk and I'm pretty sure she was only saved because of the rooster's warning and my hasty arrival at the crime scene. We thought she was dead because we only found a pile of feathers and didn't see any signs of her anywhere. She turned up a bit later eating scratch in the large wired-over pen. I love my girls like they're my kids. I don't have children (don't want them either) but I raised most of my girls from tiny chicks and I'm devastated when someone is grabbed because it's my job as their guardian to make sure they're safe. I listen to the birds and any warning calls they give. If I hear complete silence, I'm on high alert. The birds are fairly subdued when it's raining so I can't monitor their sounds very well. I don't mind milling around with an umbrella and guarding the chickens, but I want to be able to guard them effectively. We're also troubled by Cooper's and Sharp-shinned hawks since we have bantams and the chickens like to split into their distinct social groups when they're free to roam the yard. We have a large property and it's hard to keep track of all of the chickens all of the time.

Long story short: I confine them because I care.
Nicely written; it's obvious how much you do care.
PS: Cocoa - great name!
 
I should probably start calling the rooster Rodney because he gets no respect.
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They pick and scratch at him when he tries to bathe, they steal his food, and they've booted him from the top of his roosting ladder.
 
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Quote: I grew up in Maryland and dueto my work I found myself down on Cobb Island many times. At the wharf there was a resturant, Capt Thompson's, and he also bought the watermen's daily catch of oysters/crab. There is nothing like truely fresh oysters right off the waterman's boat (I was a salesman and most were my customers) rinsed off in the Chesapeak Bay, popped open and eaten right off the shell. Several of those and then it was into the Capt.'s for some steamed crabs and a cold, cold beer or two and a lot of meeting with friends and customers. Many a happy time. All these watermen in their work clothes and boots, the smell of the Chesapeak on them sitting around close by tables telling lies and stories and me in my 3 piece suit. Good memories!
 
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