Bringing Home the Ladies: The Original Flock

I bought my flock home on July 25, 2015. Seven chickens total, I acquired my flock (for the low price of $50 for 7 chickens) from a lady I had met at an Elk Foundation dinner. We had struck up a conversation and the topic of chickens surfaced, as it always does among chicken people, and months later (after the coop was constructed - see future post!) I was making the hour drive to her house with a car full of boxes to pick up my chickens!

Six hens was the deal, and I expected Ameraucanas, which she only had two mixes of, but I left with a bonus pullet - a little production red.  Two of the chickens were at least three years old and the rest had been born 2-3 months ago. I did not mind the age difference. The chickens all knew each other and some were bonded to each other so it all worked out. I was SO excited - I was finally a chicken keeper! Dream fulfilled! WooHoo!

Setting the Routine

The day-to-day care was pretty breezy since I had spent an entire year researching and a couple months building the coop and run (this was not a priority for my husband). The coop has wonderful access doors and keeping it clean was great as I used a few inches of sand over linoleum flooring as the base. No odor, easy to remove waste, a great setup - still use it now, a year later.

When I first brought them home, it was pretty dark outside and about 9:30pm, so there was just enough light for me to see what I was doing without a flashlight. One by one I took the three or four boxes from the car, through the yard, down the hill to the coop and set each gently on the ground. When all the boxes were together, I opened the big coop door (I LOVE the access doors to the coop - they are huge), and then slowly and as quietly as possible, lifted the travel-weary chickens from the box to the roost. One by one I held them up until their feet gripped the roost securely and I knew that they would not fall. Because I was moving, the whole moving in operation, from boxes in the car to seven chickens roosting, took about ten minutes. I locked the door and to bed I went, SO excited to see them in the morning! 

I kept the flock in the coop (door locked, no run access) for seven days. The purpose of this is so that they know where home is and there is no confusion about where they live. My coop is extremely well-ventilated, so they were as cool as could be in the July heat. Water and food were in the coop, too, 24/7 so they were very content together.

The day that I decided to let them out into the run was a great one! My coop has a bottom drop door with a ladder to accommodate the large (south-southeast-facing) window that I found on Freecycle.org. One by one they made their way carefully down the ladder. The whole process took about ten minutes as they were afraid to leave the coop. From that very first evening out, the entire flock went in the coop at dusk on their own and they have ever since.

From Day 1 I have loved being a chicken keeper. Through loss and cold weather, I still enjoy my flock and hope that chickens will stay a part of my life for many years to come.

I Love Roosters

We will be moving south. Within 10-15 years, the only salt I will need will be for margaritas, not sidewalks or driveways, nor roads, where it eats away at our cars. I am looking forward to EVERYTHING about the move, except one thing: I cannot take my roosters. Our southern house is right on the water, which is wonderful, but being on the water means having close neighbors. Close neighbors means no roosters (insert sad face and heavy sigh here).

When I first planned my Chickendom, roosters were not part of the equation. I did not want them, had no idea why anyone would (unless you wanted chicks), and article after article bashed the very THOUGHT of having a rooster. I was happily tending my flock of seven ladies. Add a rooster and stir the pot? "No way," thought I. Wow, was I led astray.

A month later, I was offered two Columbian Cochin Bantam roosters from a breeder. She no longer needed them as other breeds were more sought after. I had absolutely NO idea what a Columbian Cochin was, except the "bantam" part - I knew that "bantam" meant a mini chicken. I never wanted bantams as they lay little eggs and I wanted big eggs to sell and use, right? The breeder really wanted her two roosters to stay together as they were a bonded pair. That was sweet of her, but roosters were roosters so being bantams, bonded, whatever, it didn't matter. Roosters were evil - some famous blog people say that all the time so it must be true. And all that crowing! Who would want THAT?!

Included with the offer from the breeder was a photo of the boys together. Eight inches tall, feathered legs and feet that you can't even see until they are walking or running? Running? These little dudes run? Done deal - I was in.

I live in the country now so neighbors are not an issue - the only potential problem was my husband. While everything I would ever want in a man, he has no use for my Chickendom, so I just informed him of my decision, watched the facial reaction, smiled to myself that it wasn't worse, and happily went on with my plan (boohaha).

The day that I brought the boys to the yard was a joyous one. Their owner took my box, disappeared out a back door, and arrived with a heavier box, all closed up, with the cutest little noises coming out of it. I would not actually see them in person until we got home. Oh, how I wanted to wiggle my nose and be home! My in-laws went with me to pick them up and we were an excited bunch!

Ironically, my husband named them - Vincent and Jules, from Pulp Fiction fame. The boys instantaneously won the hearts of everyone who met them. They were protective of the flock, alerted the girls to food, predators and bedtime. They were a team, with one on one side of the ladies and the other on the other side, always facing out, eyes constantly scanning the yard. Watching them come running, with their feathered feet and puffy chests, was the highlight of every day. In no time, I could differentiate who was crowing. I was in love.

                                   

One early morning in October, a fox stole away my sweet Vincent. 

I cried about it for two days and moped for three more. Vincent was, by far, my favorite chicken. When you told him how handsome he was, he would spin in slow circles as if to prove your point. He ate gently from my hand and was, in general, a lovebug. Jules moped, too, as his best buddy was gone, but after a few days, he picked up the slack and became Head Honcho. It was about that time that one of my pullets showed HIS true colors - Maggie became Marvin. Marvin was a juvenile standard sized rooster, not yet full grown, of course, but grown enough to be much bigger than Jules, and a bully. He bullied Jules and the hens and me and anyone else who came in the yard. Still, I debated endlessly with myself on whether or not to keep him.

Jules has stood between the hens and a raccoon, the hens and an owl, the hens and a hawk, and the hens and strangers. He is fearless and will readily sacrifice himself for them, as did his brother. Well, the day I looked out the window and saw Jules on his back and Marvin on top attacking him, I was human lightening out the door. Marvin had a new home ASAP. I ended up giving him to a family of four and they give me photo updates. He loves them so much that he sleeps on the porch railing by their door! Still I wondered if had I acted too soon. Would Marvin have calmed down with time? Either way, he is happy now, and that is what really matters to me.

I have another rooster now that I hatched from my Lucy (Rhode Island Red) and Marvin, just because I wanted the experience of hatching and raising chicks. I did not know if Marvin or Jules was the father until the chicks hatched. I only hatched two and got a male and female, back in October 2015. The female looks just like Marvin - black with gray legs, a bit smaller in size. The male looks a lot like Marvin's dad, a pure Ameraucana. I named the rooster Tallahassee (Zombieland fans will like that name) and the girl turned out to be Little Sister. I know that there is great debate over naming chickens, which I just do not understand. I am not part of the debate, nor will I debate with anyone about it. Start your own blog and share your views there. I would not argue with you there, either. To each their own. I simply cannot imagine having an animal and calling it, "the gray one."

 Tallahasse on his birthday.

 Tallahassee and Little Sister at one month.

Tallahassee and Little Sister at five months.

Tallahassee had a flopping comb at one month and started to try crowing at three months old. I figured I was about to have my hands full. Sure enough. Once he and his sister were big enough to be out with the flock, I let them out of the nursery coop when I let the flock out. Everyone had ample time to see each other up close for the previous month. Instant scuffle of the boys, mildly torn wattles and peck marks, but no major damage. Several successful shared yard times after that, I made the mistake of asking my husband to let everyone out. I was working late and it was a beautiful day. I felt bad that they were all stuck in their respective runs. When I got home from work, I found Jules with vertically cut half of his right wattle all but ripped off, blood all over his chin, neck and chest. Lots of first aid care in the bathroom and five days later, the bottom part of the wattle, and the torn part turned black and shriveled and then fell off. The irony of the whole rooster attack situation? Though Tallahassee is over twice his size, Jules is the aggressor. Here is Jules after the attack in which half of his right wattle was ripped almost off:

Now, here I am in a tough position. I have a five month old rooster doing damage to my beloved little Columbian Cochin Bantam rooster. For the past week, I have them taking turns in the yard. Not ideal, but no bloodshed! By now I was hoping that they would all be in the big coop together, living in harmony. I need the nursery coop for the four chicks I just hatched (all Jules' babies - another future post). Do I wait and hope that with age comes wisdom? Will Tallahassee come to realize that he has nothing to fear in little Jules and chill out? Or will he kill him if given the chance? How long do I have to wait to know this? Or should I just find a flock that needs a rooster and take him there?

With all of these questions and the occasional drama, wouldn't you think that I would agree with all of those anti-rooster bloggers? Not a chance. My main advice is have ONE rooster or more than two. If you have two roosters, like I do now, you might come home to a bloody mess like I did and I do not wish that on anyone. Jules and Vincent were like loving brothers. They never squabbled or disagreed. They were a team. I believe that I have two roosters in the brooder so that may offset the 'duel' feeling between my two current adult roosters.

Roosters are handsome, active, loud and bold. They crow whenever they want and sometimes for no apparent reason other than to impress themselves. A rooster is a gorgeous, chivalrous being that just wants to protect, mate, (dust) bathe with his lady and show the girls where good food is. Who wouldn't want a guy like that around?